


Treme`

by Riverslegacy



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood and Gore, Curse Breaking, Drama & Romance, Drunkenness, F/F, F/M, Fist Fights, Gen, Horror, M/M, Magic, Multi, Rituals, Thriller, Voodoo, Witch Curses, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:27:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverslegacy/pseuds/Riverslegacy
Summary: Arsetti LeRoux is living a carefree lifestyle down in Florida. When she receives a call that changes everything. The current Voodoo Queen is finally ready to move on; and it is now time for Arsetti to return to New Orleans and inherit her birthright.Finding herself at odds with her new position and it's power and wanting nothing more than to return to her old lifestyle; Arsetti tries her best to adjust.However, a sinister plot to eradicate The Originals forces the young queen into a fight to save the city from the devouring darkness that threatens to consume it.As more and more children begin to go missing, or are found gruesomely mutilated,  Arsetti finds herself teaming up with the very beings she was warned about when she assumed the voodoo throne.________________________*Pronounced (Tra/may)*
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	1. The Witch is Back

_**"It is a big world, full of things that steal your breath and fill your belly with fire...But where you go when you leave isn't as important as where you go when you come home."** _   
_**  
**_

_**-Lindsay Eagar-** _

* * *

Music pumped through the massive sound systems, as swaying bodies littered the neon dancefloor. Bartenders hurried to fill the never-ending piles of drink orders as the waitresses struggled to balance it all on neatly stacked trays; before dashing off to serve the waiting partygoers.

Bouncers patrolled both the perimeter outside and the crowded inside; looking for any who were trying to disturb the jubilance of the club. Limber trapeze artists dangled from silken cords, and reinforced ropes, attached to the ceiling. Stretching their bodies and twisting into unfathomable positions to the beat of the music, made them look more like club decorations than humans. Live art for the viewing pleasure of the clubbers.

In the middle of the dance floor Arsetti danced without a care in the world. Hips swaying to the music as she eyed the tall dark and handsome man across from her, dancing sensually with the sweet blonde girl in front of him.

Paradise was the hottest club in Miami and a favorite of hers. It was the best place in the world for a club kid who just wanted to dance and an even better place for supernaturals to mingle without restraint.

The club held a mystical vibe that lent to the illusion that the creatures that filled it were all make-believe. Simply, people in costumes living out their wildest fantasies but unlike the humans here, she knew better.

She eyed the guy across from her seductively. Watching as his eyes slowly lifted from the beautiful blondes neck he had been drinking from. Giving him a wicked smirk, which he gladly returned, he offered her a drink from the poor blonde's wrist.

He had wrongly assumed that she was like him, a vampire. She couldn't fault him for his assumptions; the glamour she had spelled earlier had still not worn off. So, by appearances alone, she would look like a vampire to him and others like him, and she liked it that way. There weren't many witches in Miami so to blend in she often used a glamour.

Better to be a vampire in disguise than a witch in a city with little witches. However, those that were left lived on the outskirts of the city and for very good reasons.

Shaking her head, she rid herself of those morbid thoughts and brought her attention back to him.

Politely, she declined his offer and raised her glass of dark red wine to her lips, giving it a slight tap with her finger. Getting her unspoken point, he nodded his head and gave her a wink before disappearing away from the dancefloor.

He knew the rules just like anyone else that came there. No feeding on the dancefloor.

The club's illusion had to be kept and since she liked it there, she often gave a gentle reminder to those that tried to upset the clubs delicate balance.

Undeterred by having to police the obviously new vamp, she continued to drink her wine and sway her hips getting lost in the rhythm of the song. For a small second, the horns and drums of the tune now playing made her miss New Orleans.

The way the French Quarter practically burst with energy during Madi Gras. The way people lined up to give the witches gifts, in hopes of receiving a yearly blessing. Even, the way the city smelled after a fresh rain.

She missed how the smell of wet earth, mixed in with the fragrant scents of the spiced food and French pastries, calmed her like nothing else she had ever known.

However, as soon as the feeling had come it was gone when the DJ changed the song to a lil Baby track.

Not really feeling the song, she exited the dancefloor and made her way to the balcony outside, to get some much-needed fresh air.

While not like the air in New Orleans, the air in Miami was quite nice and always warm. Bringing with it the smell of salt and distinctly Cuban flavors with each passing breeze.

It was here in Miami that she had found peace. Here, no one knew her or her family. No one in Miami had all these great expectations of her, that she had no idea if she could even live up to. Here, she was just like everyone else and could blend in and live carefree, and she loved it.

Maybe she had been running away from her eventual responsibilities when she had initially left New Orleans, but now she loved the life she had created for herself in Miami.

At that, she remembered the last words her grandmother had told her on the day that she had left.

"Responsibility has a way of finding you no matter where you are at or how far you run. When it's time, it will drag your ass back kicking and screaming no matter if you're ready or not." She recited the words softly to herself, as she sat her now empty glass on a nearby table.

Her phone ringing startled her out of her thoughts. Placing a hand to her racing heart, she used the other to pull her phone from the safety of her bra and looked at the name that popped up on its screen.

Sighing, she mumbled a few curses before pressing answer and placing the device to her ear.

"Fe you sure do have some kind of timing, don't you?" Came her slightly agitated huff. "What is it this time? More city gossip? That guy you been running around with wife finally found out about ya'll? Or have you called to try and talk me into coming home again?"

She could hear him kiss his teeth through the phone and didn't have to guess that he was probably frowning too.

"Setti, shut the hell up and listen." He demanded. "MeMaw gave your ass as much time as she could to go out into the world and sow your oats, but it's time you came home."

Frowning, she sighed out. "Man, I told you I'm not ready yet. Can't I have a little more time to be free from all this? Can't you talk to her for me, please cousin?" putting a honeyed emphasis on the last part, she waited to hear his response.

"I wish I could, but I can't baby." Fe sighed. "It's time Setti. MeMaw is ready and her body ain't gonna hold out for much longer. She tried she really did, but she is ready and you need to come on home." He explained sadly.

"Alright, I'm on my way. I'll take the first flight I can get back." Arsetti conceded sadly. "Kiss memaw for me and tell her I love her and will be there soon."

"You know it's not the end of the world right?" laughed Fe. Then after taking a breath, added softly. "It ain't as bad as you think it is. Sure, like anything else it has its downside but baby the benefits outweigh all that. Plus, you have me to help get you through it all. We family Setti, you know I'm not about to let you fall."

"I know Fe." Came her whispered response. Cradling the phone to her ear, she smiled. "I love you, cousin."

"And I love you too." Beamed Fe. "Now hurry up and bring your narrow ass home!" He yelled out before hanging up in her face.

Sighing, Arsetti made her way from the balcony and left the club. It had been fun while it lasted but it was time to go home. Just like her grandmother had said responsibility was calling, and she had no choice but to answer.

Quickly, she packed all of her belongings and left her small apartment in South Beach. She had managed to find a redeye that left in 4 hours and after a short Uber ride found herself checking in her bags at the near empty airport.

Soon her flight number was called, and it was time to board. Taking one last look around at the city she had called her home for the past 4 years, she bid it goodbye and got on the plane.

"Thanks for the memories Miami. It's been fun, but now this witch is going back cause it's time to assume the throne. New Orleans needs it's queen." She wistfully announced.

She pulled down the flap over the window of the plane as the engine roared to life and the plane began to take off.

Getting comfortable, she tried to get some sleep but couldn't help wondering, that due to her grandmother's illness and not being able to actively participate in the upkeep of New Orleans fragile truces, what state she would find the city in when she got there.

For the first time in 4 years Arsetti LeRoux, felt regret.


	2. Bayou Birthright

**_"Life is about choices. Some we regret, some we're proud of, and some will haunt us forever."_ **

**- _Graham Brown_ -**

* * *

The early morning light dimly began to cast away the shadows of the night, as the car traveled down the well-worn Esplanade street.

Arsetti kept her eyes facing the window, taking in all the familiar sights. Watching as old and new houses whizzed by, until the space between each one grew further and further apart.

Magnolia trees, with unripened blossoms, and thick bluegrass covered in morning dew, now ran plentiful in place of the residential housings. Every now and then, a trodden path that led to an old plantation with cracked windows or peeling paint, would come into view; before it was, once again, covered by thick foliage.

Esplanade was one of the oldest and longest streets in all New Orleans and considered neutral ground by all the coven fractions, and that was where her family stayed.

Almost at the very edge of the street, near Bayou St. John, in an old plantation aptly named Le' Magnolia de fleur.

It was a place where you could find magnificent magnolia trees that bloomed year-round and a small creek with the clearest water and freshest fish you've ever had. While, the manor itself sat in the center and glimmered like a shinning gem under the first rays of morning. Making it every bit as majestic from far away, as it was up close.

Sealed behind iron gates that were trimmed in gold and engraved with her family's emblem, it loomed almost mockingly as it came into view. She watched somberly, as the Uber driver turned onto the beaten dirt path that led to the massive 100-acre manor's equally massive gates. 

Quickly and quietly, she uttered a chant that would unlock and open the spelled iron.

Due to necessity, her family had to have the gates enchanted over 180 years ago. At the time, word had gotten around the city that the witches were committing mass killings and were using the sacrifices to gain more power.

Of course, the rumor was false, but it caused panic among the people and the humans began killing off any witch they could find. Even going so far as to hunt them down for sport.

Many witches died during that time; hundreds in fact. Years later, it was revealed that it was in fact a vampire who had spread the lie, in order to cover his murderous tracks but the damage had already been done.

She was pulled from her thoughts as the Uber came to a stop, onto the cobblestone driveway that led to the marble stairway of the manors entrance.

After thanking her driver, she exited the car and waited for him to pop the trunk, so that she could gather her luggage.

Armed with her roll-a-ways and two large duffel bags, she watched her driver pull off before making her way up the sprawling stairs to the front door. Reaching into her pocket with her free hand, she pulled out a key she hadn't used in 4 years and placed it in the key hole.

The lock clicked and the door creaked open, as she quietly trudged her way inside. Immediately, the once dark foyer was flooded with light and Fe's booming voice destroyed its quietness.

"Cousin! I was just about to head to the airport to pick you up." He beamed. "Glad you at least remembered how to get here." He jokingly barbed. "Need me to show you where your room is, or you got it?"

"I got it." Came Arsetti's tired reply. 

The heavy duffel bags began to dig into her skin leaving red indentations as gravity continued to weigh upon them. "You could help me with my bags though. They are starting to get heavy." She complained.

Nodding his head, Fe grabbed both duffel bags and one of her roll-a-ways. Together, they took her things upstairs to her old room. Her grandmother had kept everything just the way she had left it right down to the wrinkles in her dark magenta comforter.

Quickly, with her cousin's help, she put away her belongings and followed him back down the stairs. Silently, they headed towards the receiving room where each coven's leader had gathered to bear witness to the transference of power.

She hadn't even changed out of her club clothes before she had gotten on the plane and the material of her cream-colored bandage dress began to feel almost too tight against her skin. While its knotted tassels tickled her thighs uncomfortably and her heels chafed the soles of her feet with each clicking step she took across the polished granite floor.

"Are you good cousin?" Came Fe's concerned inquiry, as he eyed the now apprehensive girl.

Feeling her words would fail her, she only nodded mutely. Stopping, Fe turned around and pulled her into a hug.

"Setti, baby everything is gonna be alright." He comforted. "It'll all be over before you know it. It only hurts for a second, okay. So, just breath through it and you'll be fine, I promise."

Giving her one last comforting squeeze, he released her and together they walked into the receiving room.

The immense windows of the room ran high into the air, covered by drawn burgundy drapes with their golden cords dangling on each side. Antique furniture trimmed in dark oak and cushions of rich reds and creams, decorated the room. 3 crystal chandeliers hung high above them dangling gracefully in antebellum era splendor, as oak tables that held priceless figurines intermingled among the sofas and chairs.

The place was just as beautiful as she remembered and for a second, she felt just like a little girl again, running around carefree and hiding among its many dark corners in playful childishness.

However, she was not a little girl anymore and as she stared into the faces of all the witches in the room she tried to hide her nervousness.

"Setti." Called the rich voice of her grandmother, lovingly. She was standing in the center of the witches wearing a small but tired smile. "Come child, let us began."

Nodding her head, Arsetti made her way over. As soon as she was close enough, she was pulled into a tight hug by her grandmother. "I missed you, Setti." The elder LeRoux whispered into her hair.

"I missed you too, MeMaw." Came the girl's watery mumbled reply.

"I know your scared and I know why but it will be alright." Confessed her grandmother quietly. "We are the masters of our fate, the weavers of our own destiny and I believe with my whole heart that you will keep New Orleans strong. Keep the covens united. There is darkness headed this way baby, so you must be ready."

Pulling away, she led Arsetti over to a table lined with lit candles and held a golden goblet and ceremonial knife in its center. In this moment, Arsetti saw nothing but her grandmother's loving face and she committed it to her memory. Watching as the elder's eyes conveyed a message she couldn't say aloud.

_Be strong, granddaughter, you must be strong._

Fe took his position at in front of them. Grabbing the knife and chalice, he addressed the spectators in the room.

"We here today will bare witness to the passing of power. As one voodoo queen passes, another shall begin her reign. Blessed by the ancestors to live until a new queen is ready to ascend and then consecrated back unto the earth and trees, from which we draw our power." His deep voice boom across the large room.

Taking a deep breath, he continued with the passage rites. "For 254 years Sadie LeRoux has reigned strong and now she has chosen to move on to the ancestral lands. Are you ready MeMaw?"

Grabbing Arsetti's hands, Sadie gave them a gentle squeeze before looking to Fe.

"I am." She confirmed, in a voice strong and firm that belied her fragile weakening body.

Looking to Arsetti, Fe asked. "And Arsetti LeRoux are you prepared to inherit your birthright and begin your reign as New Orleans new Voodoo Queen?"

Taking a deep breath, she steeled her nerves and nodded. "I am."

"Though I will be gone in body, I will always be with you in spirit." Whispered her grandmother comfortingly.

"Hold on tight to my hands Setti and don't let go, no matter what." She cautioned, as the spectating witches began to murmur excitedly among themselves and the room began to hum with power.

"Then it is time to receive what belongs to you; all the power of your ancestors." Commanded Fe.

Arsetti could feel the blood rushing through her veins as her heart pumped furiously in her chest. She watched as her grandmother's eyes began to change from sepia to white. 

The magnolia tattoos, that told of her position, shimmered as they slowly began to creep over from one LeRoux to the other. The branches of the tree blooming as they inked up Arsetti's arms like the blood that raced through her veins.

Distantly, she could hear chanting but it sounded so far away compared to the roaring beat of her own heart. 

The magnolia blossoms began to sway gently as they ran down Arsetti's limbs. Soon skeletons began to appear, dangling from tightly wrapped nooses that hung from the inky black branches in between the colorful flowers; their faces twisted in eternal horror. Power began to course though her with each new bloom and lynched skeleton that appeared on the magnolia branches.

"I love you, Setti." Whispered her grandmother, as one lone tear streaked down her cheek. "I know you'll make me proud."

Before Arsetti could respond, Fe walked around to stand behind Sadie.

"From the earth we reap our power and from the body we sow it back. Take your place and walk among our ancestors, Sadie LeRoux." He firmly commanded. 

Pulling back her head by her mop of sandy brown hair, he quickly made a deep slit in her throat. She began to take wet breaths as the blood poured from the wound. Placing the chalice underneath the cut as the dark blood flowed freely, and quickly filled it.

Walking up to Arsetti, he placed the chalice to her lips. Remembering her grandmother's directions, she held firm to the elder LeRoux's quickly cooling hands and drank from the cup its contents in greedy gulps.

Like fire, it burned its way down her throat and pain consumed her body. Before her very eyes, she watched the death of each and every one of her ancestors replayed in front of her. As each one died, they walked through her and gave to her their power. Her body screamed in agony as she tried in vain to control her breathing.

Fe had told her the pain only lasted a second but now that she was experiencing it, it felt more like an eternity. Finally, the last soul made its way to her. A peaceful smile adorned her lovely face, as she approached.

"Keep the peace Setti. And remember, your fate is not your mother's. You are much stronger than you know." Came the soft voice of her grandmother. "I'm always with you." 

And with that, she passed through her and gave to her granddaughter all her power.

The witches watched in awestruck amazement as Arsetti's eyes began to change. Gone was the steely blue they had been only a moment ago. Like her grandmother's they turned all white, as bolts of lightning began to rain down upon the room and the land outside.

Faster and stronger the bolts rained down, as thunder crashed around them. Clouds gathered quickly outside of the manor's double doors, covering all of New Orleans in its gloominess. Filled beyond capacity, the dam holding the rains at bay broke; unleashing torrents of tiny drops upon the land.

Slowly, the lightning died down around the girl before settling itself in hot white flashes within her eyes. With each blink, the bolts flashed once more before they completely disappeared. Leaving behind only the steely blues everyone knew her to own.

"Meet your new Voodoo Queen, witches of New Orleans, Arsetti Fonenot LeRoux." Announced Fe, as the young queen's world suddenly went black and the study rains continued to fall across New Orleans.


	3. Every Witch Way

**_"In the long run, we shape our lives and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility."_ **

**_-Eleanor Roosevelt-_ **

* * *

"If she doesn't want a ceremonial parade to announce her reign to New Orleans than we should respect that." Argued the Regent, to the faction leaders.

Though he had missed the transference of power, he arrived shortly after the new queen regained consciousness and made the announcement regarding the parade. Before she quietly left with her cousin to consecrate the former queen's body among the magnolia trees on the property.

"Vincent she is our queen. Is it wrong to want to celebrate that? For us to honor her as her station demands and give her offerings in the French quarter." Countered the leader of the French quarter witches.

Sighing, Vincent ran an agitated hand across his forehead and tried to reason with them. "No, it's not wrong. That's not what I'm saying. All I'm trying to say is, that girl **just** had to participate in a ritual that involved watching her cousin slit her grandmother's throat and collect the blood into a _cup_ for her to **drink**. She may be our queen but she still has feelings and we should respect them. Especially, right now."

Taking a deep breath, he suggested compassionately. "I think the least we can do, is allow her the time she needs to come to grips with all of this; before we throw a party in the center of the French quarter to celebrate."

Each leader took in his words and slowly began to nod in agreement. Relieved, he relaxed his stance a bit. New Orleans had bigger problems brewing than a bunch of witches arguing about a party that was really only a way to show the other supernaturals a useless display of political power.

With a reigning active young queen, it gave the witches back their confidence. That they were more than just pawns in the game of chess constantly being played between the werewolves and the vampires for dominion over New Orleans.

That they too now had a chance in the battle grab for power.

Former voodoo queen Sadie had not actively participated in the New Orleans power disputes since the tragic death of her daughter. Although the witches understood her grief, it didn't stop the desire to fight for what was theirs, nonetheless.

"Vincent." Called a short witch, with dark red hair and large brown eyes, that led the Algiers faction since the death of Josephine.

Turning around to face her, he placed his hands behind his back and waited for her to speak. "As regent to the queen it is your job to help her transition into the political aspects of her position. Can we trust that you would do so and encourage her to maintain neutrality?" Asked the witch skeptically.

Nodding his head, he graced her with a captivating smile. "I have every intention of doing just that, Nadia. I want her transition to go as smoothly as possible, just like the rest of you and I understand the need for her to remain neutral within the factions." He agreed, wholeheartedly.

"I'm only asking due in part to the recent events involving your involvement with the Mikaelson's and Marcel Gerard, and the tragic deaths of both former regents. Who we lost while they were still so young and full of untapped talent." She worded carefully. "Surely you can understand my concerns for the new queen?" Asked Nadia raising an eyebrow and tilting her head slightly to the side, as she looked up at the tall regent.

Vincent tried not to frown as she had purposely picked at the still freshly scabbed wounds of Davina's soul being ripped apart by the ancestors and his choice to separate the covens from the vengeful spirits. Later on today, he had plans to meet up with Marcel, Kol and Josh for her memorial.

However, he knew why she had brought it up. She thought she could goad him easily with it, but it wouldn't work. He wouldn't fall for the crafty witch's tricks, so with a smile he excused himself.

He needed to find Arsetti and talk to her about a few things, mainly the Mikaelsons.

* * *

Arsetti blew the steady stream of smoke from the burning smudge bundle over Sadie's body, as Fe' mumbled words of prayer. They had decided to bury her under her favorite tree in the backyard, right next to where Arsetti's mother was buried.

It was a family tradition, to be buried among the magnolias at the back of the manor. It was her family's source of strength. Just like the French quarter witches had the graveyard, the LeRoux's drew their power from nature and when they died, consecrated themselves back among the source of said power.

Working quietly, they placed her body in the freshly dug grave and began covering it with earth. Since waking, Arsetti had been oddly quiet. Aside from her announcement to the witch leaders in the receiving hall, she made no other moves to converse but Fe understood, so he didn't push.

Out of the corners of his eyes, he kept a watchful eye on her. Just in case she broke down but she hadn't even shed a tear, and that alarmed him.

Once the last bit of dirt covered the former queen, Fe could no longer keep his concern to himself. "Setti, are you okay, baby?" He asked quietly.

"I'm fine." Came her hallow response.

Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Okay, that only works on people who don't _know_ you. So, let's try this again." He began more determined. Grabbing her by the arms, he looked down at her and forced her to look at him.

"Now. Setti, are you okay?" He asked again slightly more forcefully but still laced with great concern.

Eyes watering a bit, she looked away from his prying gaze. 

Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady her voice. "I should have spent more time here, Fe. I'm trying to be strong, like she raised me to be, but I just feel regret for leaving and now she's gone."

"Look at me." Fe commanded gently, as he cupped her chin. "No one blames you for wanting to get the hell out of here for a while. Not me and definitely not MeMaw. You needed that time to explore the world, to be free from responsibility. That was why she fought so hard to give it to you. We are strong and you as queen are the strongest of us all Setti. None of this is gonna be easy baby but MeMaw believed you can do it, and so do I." He smiled.

Nodding her head, she sighed as her cousin pulled her into his warm arms for a comforting side hug. The rain continued to fall around them in gentle pitter pats as the warm air teased their hair and for a while the cousins just stayed like that.

A masculine throat clearing caught their attention and the cousins turned around to see Vincent's approaching form.

Inclining his head, he greeted. "Morning. I just came by to introduce myself. My name is Vincent Griffin, I'm the regent. I know that this probably ain't a good time, but I really need to talk to you about a few things that's been going on in the city."

Nodding, Arsetti pulled away from her cousin and walked closer to the tall regent. "No, it's fine." She assuaged. "It must be important seeing how your fidgeting." She observed astutely. "So, tell me, what do I need to know."

"Well," he began slowly. "Aside from the situations that befell the previous regents, I think the most important thing I tell you about is the Originals, what do you know about them?" he asked curiously.

"Just the horror stories about them massacring whole villages and things like that." She replied thoughtfully. "I know that there was about 5 of them but I can't remember their names. To be honest I always thought they were just a myth."

"No, I can assure you they are very real." Vincent countered vehemently . "Very real and very dangerous. That family destroys anything it touches, and it would be a good idea if you stayed away from them." He warned ominously. "Especially Klaus. You're just gonna have to trust me on this one. I've lost a lot of friends who got caught up in that family's madness."

"Honestly, that was part of the reasons I didn't want a parade. Well, sort of, at least." Arsetti admitted softly. "I knew that there would be a host of problems with little solutions. So, I thought I could see for myself how bad things are in the city. So that when one of the factions came to me for help with a problem, I could better aide them with a solution."

At both Vincent's and Fe's nods of approval, Arsetti tried to put a little more cheer in her voice than she felt at the moment. If her Grandmother had faith that she could do this, then she would try to give it her all and there was no time like the present to get started. She was the Voodoo queen now and her city needed her. She had a responsibility to her city and more importantly to her grandmother to try her absolute best.

Clapping her hands together, she smirked. "I think I know exactly where I want to start. Bourbon Street is as good a place as any and I'm sure I'm bound to see some problems that need to be fixed." Shrugging her shoulders, she added. "Besides, now that I'm back it's only right that I stop by Rousseau's and say hi to Sofie. I missed her jambalaya."

At Fe's look of utter horror, Arsetti raised a brow. "What?" she asked confused.

"Baby, I hate to be the one to tell you this." Began her cousin remorsefully. "But both Sofie and her sister is dead."

Shocked, she turned to look at Vincent for confirmation and when he nodded, she sighed out. "Well, who runs the bar now?"

Licking his lips nervously, Vincent answered. "Well up until a couple days ago it was Cami O'Connell but now that she has died too, I'm not to sure who the next owner is gonna be."

Placing her hands underneath her chin, Arsetti decided carefully on her next words. Biting her lip, she came to her decision. "Now, I really think that I should check out the French quarter, especially Bourbon street. Judging by what you've just said, it seems like I'm gonna get a first hand look at more than a few of those problems." 

Giving it a little more thought, she added. "I think it might also be a good idea if you filled me in on everything that's happened in these last 4 years. Something tells me that all three of those deaths weren't from natural causes. So, if you don't mind Vincent, could you start with what happened to the two previous regents?" 

Looking at the deep set frown on his face and sadness in his eyes, gave her the strongest sensation that what she was about to hear would probably give her nightmares and more than likely had something to do with the family he had warned her about.


	4. Down and out on Bourbon Street

**_"I love those who can smile when troubled, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. It's the business of little minds to shrink, but those whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves their conduct, will pursue their principles unto death."_ **

**_-Leonardo Da Vinci-_ **

* * *

Thick grey clouds rolled across the sky. Like ocean waves at high tide, they toppled over and crashed into one another, with each clap of roaring thunder. Disconsolately casting their dim shadows over the drenched streets of the French quarter.

The smell of steadily dampening earth mixed with the sweet scents of New Orleans, as the light breezes of the nearby golf carried the aroma throughout the land and the rain gutters began to swell.

Wafting slowly into the houses of those who had left open a window or screen door, to enjoy the sounds of the rainfall, as a calmingly satisfying and natural aromatherapy, on this gloomy day.

The famous Bourbon street was now lined with rows and rows of its patrons standing at the ready behind the horse drawn carriage, dressed in black, with their umbrellas high in the air to ward off the falling rain.

A full jazz band off to the left, but still behind, the sleek black carriage began to play a familiar New Orleans tune. As the dark oak coffin, with its massive bouquet of Irish wild flowers draped over its top, gleamed despite the dreary atmosphere.

Slowly, they began the procession down the rain-soaked road.

Carefully, those in the second line began to twirl their umbrellas, so as not to splash water on the grieving immortals in the front of them as they ambled behind the carted remains of their friend.

Today they were sending off one of their own, in true New Orleans fashion.

Heads held high, they marched, as onlookers and those behind them celebrated the life of Camille O'Connell. Though none except a sparse few knew the truth of how she died, today they remembered not her death but the way she impacted each of their lives.

None more so than Klaus.

He had very few people in this world that he could trust and even less that truly understood him, and now he would have one less. For him, this was one more reason to add to the long list of why he shouldn't strive to be loved.

It was the same tragic story every time for over 1000 years. To love him was to mark yourself for death.

It was only by sheer will, and over a thousand years of practice, was he able to school his features to not show his grief. To those that knew him, however, would only have to look into his eyes to see the truth of the depths of his despair.

He felt neither rain nor winds on his skin, just the icy grip of a love lost before it truly ever had the chance to fully bloom.

Looking ahead of him, he walked leisurely with his brother on one side and Hayley on the other, as they made their way to the burial ground. He adjusted the buttons on his expensive tailored suit as they walked past the gates of St. Louis cemetery.

There they would bury her next to her uncle Kieran, listen as prayers were said in her honor and watch as her body was placed into its final resting place and bricked shut.

Placing his hand to the casket, as the craftsman prepared his tools and mixed the cement, Klaus smiled sadly, and whispered. "Goodbye Camille." Sounding even to his own ears hollow and broken, and so unlike his downright dastardly self.

Being an immortal, he had seen more deaths than anyone, more than half of those were of people who didn't deserve the fate, that their only crime was of circumstance. If not by his hand most of those deaths had happened because of him, just like Camille's had been.

Sluggishly, he stepped away from the coffin and made his way back towards the gates of the cemetery. Yet, a firm but gentle hand placed upon his shoulder stilled his movements.

"Brother." Began Elijah, sympathetically. However, Klaus interrupted whatever profound sentiments had been about to leave the elder Mikaelson's lips.

"I'm allowing myself one day, where I drown my sorrows in bourbon, booze and New Orleans' blues. Then come tomorrow I'll put away my grief and focus on something more, me." He spoke quietly. Smirking slightly, he added. "I believe that Camille would encourage this outlet a lot more than my usual slaughtering of an entire village, don't you think Elijah?"

Not waiting for a response, he left the graveyard and headed straight for Bourbon Street.

Stopping at the first familiar bar that caught his eye, Rousseau's. 

* * *

Still clad in the dress she'd worn to Club Paradise, Arsetti's heels clicked across the cobblestone sidewalk of Bourbon Street.

It had taken a few hours for Vincent and Fe' to fill her in on some of the things that had happened in the city since she left 4 years ago. After which, the regent excused himself so that he could attend the memorial of his fallen friend.

It had taken another hour before she had found the keys to her car, among the many inside the cabinet of the manors massive garage. Her grandmother had a vast collection of cars spanning from an original model T to the more modern Bentley coupe, and everything in between.

All of them kept in great condition, but none of them hers. Even though they were technically considered to be just that, as they too were a part of her inheritance, she still desired to be behind the wheel of the car she had picked out herself.

Having driven it only a handful of times before she had departed the city, she was anxious to get behind the wheel of her cherry red McLaren. Her grandmother had insisted when she bought it that engraved magnolias shimmered the stitching of the otherwise black interior. In hindsight, she understood now why he grandmother had been so insistent.

The ride into town was smooth. 

Despite the rain sodden roads, her car glided over the weather worn street without so much as a dip from the many potholes scattered throughout the roadway. Though it had taken almost an hour to get to the French quarter, she enjoyed the ride.

Eyes scanning first left than right, she made her way across the water slicked street. Nightfall had begun to set in upon the already drearily dark day, as the French quarter bustled with evening activity and tourists looking for fun and adventure.

However, according to Vincent that wasn't all some of them would be getting. At the thought of the club he spoke of, and what tends to happen after midnight, she shivered. Not surprised in the least, but still slightly disturbed by the open feeding he had described.

Though she would have rather continued to live her carefree lifestyle in Miami, she was determined to be as active as she could now that she was the queen, and that started with seeing how things were running in the quarter.

Cautiously, she stepped up onto the sidewalk, mindful of the puddle just below it and smiled at the neon blue light of Rousseau's.

The door, propped open by a rubber stopper, was just as welcoming as it had been 4 years ago. Music and laughter filtered out into the streets, as clinking glasses and scooting chairs added to the bar's boisterous ambiance.

Grinning at the familiarity of it all, she crossed over the threshold and made her way to the bar.

Rousseau's bright lights drew attention to her magnolia tattoos as the blossoms swayed gently, a clear indicator of her supernatural nature. She had been surprised when she caught her reflection in the manor's full mirror, when she had woken, that most of the blossoms and its branches had faded from most of her body. All of the lynched skeletons were gone, and now from what she could see of her body only thinly spread branches and scattered blossoms ran up both arms and up the side of her neck.

Fe had told her that the branches would spread, and more blossoms would appear if she were to use her powers or cast spells. However, when she asked him about the skeletons with the distorted faces he informed her that they too could and would reappear, but he purposely left out when, or even how.

She could feel eyes on her as she walked, hear people murmur among themselves but she tried to pay it no mind. She was more than positive that word had already gotten around about her amongst the witches, a new queen after 254 years was definitely something gossip worthy. 

They had respected her wishes to not have a parade, and something told her that Vincent had a lot to do with that, but she had to wonder if they would also allow her to keep the low profile she was aiming for.

Taking a seat on a stool at the bar, she ordered a drink and decided to begin observing. Eyes scanning the crowded bar, she was surprised when a waitress carrying drinks and food approached her.

"A gift, my queen." She spoke lowly and respectfully. Placing the dishes and drinks onto the bar, she took Arsetti's hand in hers and bowed before her.

Caught off guard, the young queen quickly scanned the crowd nervously. Before her eyes more and more witches began to bow.

'So much for being anonymous or keeping a low profile.' She thought sardonically.

Eyeing as one by one, more witches approached her baring small offerings, drinks, food and some even had taken off the jewelry they wore to gift it to her.

Embarrassed at their display of affections, She looked away only for her eyes to lock onto the blue-eyed inebriated stare of a strawberry blonde gentlemen, who looked anything **but** human.

His eyes were curious and calculating, though clearly red from the effects of the booze he drank. Empty glasses littered his table, nearly covering it completely. He was dressed in an all-black suit and if she had to guess it all added up to one thing, he had probably come from a funeral.

Time seemed to stop for a moment as they stared at one another. There was no music, no bowing witches giving her offerings and bustling waitresses carrying trays of food and drinks, there was nothing.

It was then that his lips tilted into a cunning smirk and broke the spell that had held her both curious and captive of the elusive stranger.

With that, he turned his head away from her and finished his drink in one gulp.

Completely dismissing her presence, as the witches continued to excitedly gift her their offerings.


	5. Back-alley Exchange

**_"I try not to drink too much because when I'm drunk, I bite."_ **

**_-Bette Midler-_ **

* * *

Loud blues music filtered from the jukebox, as the dance floor filled with both locals and tourist alike. Laughter and clinking glasses competed against the ruckus of the billiards game going on at the back of the bar. Waitresses rushed to refill libations and take down orders from each full table.

While the steadily growing number of witches grandstanded over their queen's attention and soft smiles, taking satisfaction in the confused glares of the other supernaturals in the bar.

No immortal was more perplexed yet fascinated by the display than the inebriated Klaus, as he watched their shenanigans for over an hour.

He was beyond the limits of wasted and had he been mortal he would have died 3 times already from the amount of liquor he had ingested. Instead, he just sat in his seat, staring at his now empty cup, wondering how long it would take him to sober up.

He was pissy drunk, and he knew it.

Fighting with himself not to laugh out loud, he thought of the last time he was this sloshed. Smirking, he realized he hadn't been smashed to this magnitude since the night Hope was conceived.

Though his senses were still sharp, his reflexes were slowed just a bit from all of the booze in his system. The world around him swayed and, with each turn of his head, the faces of the bar patrons blurred slightly around the edges of his vision.

Instead, he focused his attention on the young witch, in the cream-colored dress, that the other witches in Rousseau's seemed to be fawning over. Watching as they bowed and offered her gifts of food and jewelry, practically preening when she gave them appreciative smiles in return.

He almost snorted when he saw her magnolia tattoos begin to move slightly, a clear indicator to him that he might have drank too much.

Still, he admired the way their movements seemed to almost coincide with the blood he could hear racing through her veins. Her tattoos were delicately crafted, and he marveled at the artwork and attention to detail, eyes skimming over her body he curiously wondered if she had more.

She peaked his interest, in a way he hadn't felt in a while. Mostly, it was the witch's reaction to her presence that had him racking his alcohol addled brain to figure out who she was. He'd been around a long time, seen kings and soldiers alike receive this same treatment upon returning to their lands. So, he had no doubt that she was of some importance to the witches and he needed to find out why.

The brush of her magic slid across his skin, even from their distance across the room, leaving a trail of tingles in their path. She was quite powerful and obviously well loved by the covens.

The more his thoughts ran about the caramel color haired cutie, with the slightly red lowlights, the more he wondered how he could use someone of her obvious power and influence, to his advantage.

It was obvious to him that, when their eyes met earlier, she had no idea who he was. Which gave him the upper hand in this situation.

He could learn more about her later; her strengths, weaknesses, anything he'd be able to use to his advantage but first he needed to devise a way to lure her to him.

Slowly, he rose from his chair exaggerating his slight wobble a bit more, as he did. He wanted to put on a show for those watching that he was indeed drunk. Pulling out a few hundreds he placed them on the table and staggered out of the bar.

Aimlessly, he wondered around looking for the perfect person to initiate his plan. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his mark and made his move. Allowing himself a small victory smile, he fumbled drunkenly a few feet more before his tall frame collided knees first with a nearby trash can. Holding out his hands in front of him, Klaus toppled over like a fallen tree, onto the wet sidewalk.

"Hey man are you okay?" asked the concerned man, in a dark grey hoodie, as he ran forward to help. Just like Klaus had predicted he would.

Smiling, he looked the poor good Samaritan deeply in the eyes. "I'm fine, I assure you." He began smugly. "I do, however, have a job for you and you are not going to like it, but you'll do it anyway."

Helplessly, the man nodded his head against his will, as he listened attentively as Klaus told him of his plan.

* * *

Smiling politely, Arsetti bid the French quarter witches' good night. Though she hadn't gotten to see much of the problems the witches faced here, she did get to hear their complaints.

It turned out, Vincent had forgotten to mention a few things about the French quarter witch's dilemma, that happened only a short while ago. How after Marcel Gerard proclaimed himself king of the city, he banned witches from doing magic in the quarter. Even had gone out of his way to viciously kill anyone caught practicing, including her old friend Jane Anne.

She tried not to become suspicious of his reasons, simply choosing to believe that he had just deemed it unimportant compared to everything else he had said. Even though the witches seem to think otherwise.

Talking with them had given her a lot to think about and she asked them to spread the word among the factions. Tomorrow afternoon they would all meet at Cemetery #2, where she would gladly hear more of their grievances. At their nods of approvals, she bid them all goodnight.

Once the cool night air assaulted her exposed skin, she felt herself shiver. Not from the chill wind but from a feeling of someone watching her. It made the hairs on the back of her neck raise in alarm and gave her the distinct feeling of being hunted.

Slowly, she walked down the sidewalk watching as once bustling night time activities gradually were coming to an end. Clubs were doing last calls, bars were beginning to wind down and the streets were starting to thin out.

Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on which direction she could feel the eyes coming from. Once she found it, Arsetti made a quick decision to lure out her would be attacker. So, changing direction, she walked further away from her car and straight towards a nearby alleyway.

Whatever it was that was watching her, she knew would show itself if she made herself vulnerable. She wasn't worried about getting hurt, in fact the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. She had no reason to fear something that she knew couldn't kill her.

However, the cold press of sharp steel against her throat still her movements. She had been so focused on the other set of eyes watching her, that she had missed the very human footsteps that followed her right into the dark dank alleyway.

Clearing her mind of everything but her target, she felt her power rush through her veins.

'If this guy was looking for a weak victim than he had picked the _wrong_ one on the _right_ night.' She thought growing angrier by the second, unsure if it was towards the assailant or at herself for not paying more attention to her surroundings.

"Don't move or I'm gonna" He began to command, only for it to suddenly stop.

She felt the knife lift away from her neck abruptly, almost as if she had only imagined it there. Guttural grunts and the sound of skin being torn greeted her ears as wet coughing soon followed suit.

Turning around, she was meet with the most peculiar sight. Though if she were honest with herself she should have expected something like this.

The drunk dirty blonde guy from Rousseau's was savagely draining her _would be_ attacker completely dry.

She watched as the attacker's body involuntarily twitched, an automatic response from his dying nervous system. The dark grey of his hoodie turning black as his blood soaked into the material from his shredded larynx. Satisfied, the blonde vampire stood to his full height and tossed the now lifeless body to the ground like a used juice box and smiled.

Blood ran in rivulets down his chin and stained his teeth, as he approached her.

"You have either a massive amount of bravery or are just incredibly naive." He chided mockingly. "Tell me love, what made you think it was a good time to take a midnight stroll through a dark alley?" Taking a step closer to her, he swayed a little on his feet. Still intoxicated by the alcohol that was coursing through his system.

Frowning, Arsetti rolled her eyes and reached into her purse. Pulling out a white handkerchief, with her initials and magnolias delicately stitched in the bottom left corner, she handed it to him.

"I'm sorry, but I really can't take your drunk ass attempt at chastising me that serious with all that blood dripping down your chin." She countered slightly appalled. "Did your sire not teach you how to feed neatly and not like some half-starved wild animal?"

Politely he took the offered napkin, and grinning widely, used it to wipe the blood away.

"If by sire you mean my mother than yes, in fact, she did happen to mention that once or twice." Came his cheeky response. Once he had cleaned his face from after effects of his impromptu feeding, he tried to pass the serviette back to her.

Only, for her to turn her nose up and grimace out a choked. "Nah, I'm good. You can keep it."

Shrugging, he placed it in his suit pocket and let his eyes travel over her form. "You know if I hadn't intervened when I did, you would have had a most unpleasant night. I believe a thank you is in order." He smirked.

"I didn't ask you to do that." She countered contritely. "Nor did I even need your help."

"And yet, I gave it anyway." He argued. "You know, I find it a bit fascinating how most women would prefer a man to be chivalrous. Yet, when I attempted such actions to be gallant and gentlemanly, you looked at me as if my simple act of kindness affronted your very person. It is bad manners to not thank the generosity of others who did nothing more than save you from a most disagreeable evening event."

Taking a deep breath, she thought about what he had said, and he was right. Though she had no doubt his motives for saving her weren't completely noble, the least she could do was appreciate the effort.

"Thank you--oh, inebriated one." She joked. Then placing a small but beautiful smile upon her gorgeous face, added sincerely. "Seriously, thank you."

Matching her smile with one of his own, he beamed. "You're quite welcome." Pausing, he added darkly. "However, had I'd not been in such an obliging mood I could have easily drank you dry too."

Shaking her head, she refuted. "Nah, you wouldn't find me very tasty vampdaddy. My blood is filled with too much spice."

Shocked at her choice of words, he tried to contain his laughed at the use of vampdaddy. He had been called a lot of things in his very long life but had to admit that was the first time someone had called him that.

"If your still hungry though." She began. Than lifting her arm out towards the main street, she suggested. "Maybe you should try the blander of the human species. I'm sure you could find some roaming around here somewhere."

Unable to help himself, he chuckled. The sound filled the otherwise quiet alleyway, bouncing off the brick walls and metal dumpsters.

"I've always had a deep admiration for this city because of its people and their resilience, and of course because of the food." He smirked.

Leaning down so that his mouth hovered just above her ear, he whispered darkly. "And just so your aware love, I happen to love things with spice."

Being this close to him made her acutely aware of the fact that he was taller than she had thought, and he reeked of booze and blood.

For as handsome as he was, both of those scents were overbearing to her poor senses and a turn off by themselves, but together it was almost too much on her poor nose, and she tried not to gag.

Distractedly, she asked. "So, what's your name stranger. I mean, it would be nice to know the name of my hero, after all." She breathed a big gulp of silent relief when he straightened up and took a step back.

"Niklaus." He answered lowly. Steadying her face as he did, gauging her reaction to his reveal.

Sighing dramatically, she complained. "So, you're the Mikaelson everyone has been telling me about all day. God, they made you sound like you would look like some kind of disfigured hell-hound, with glowing red eyes, a forked tongue and psychotic megalomaniac tendencies."

Laughing a short humorless chuckle, she reflected. "Looking at you know though, you look a lot more _man_ than the monster they described you as." She let him see her eyes roam over his body, before once again staring into those calculating blues of his.

Running his tongue slightly over his bottom lip, he sneered wickedly. "Whatever people have told you about me, love, it's all true. I can also assure you that I am every bit the beast they said that I am. Maybe, worse."

"Noted." She acknowledged plainly. 

Getting the feeling that their conversation had come to an end, she readied herself to walk away. She now wanted nothing more than to go home and wash the smell of booze, blood and expensive cologne from her senses.

Arsetti knew that even though he hadn't said it aloud, it was clear he would be calling in her debt, once he found something he deemed worthy of her usefulness. He had hinted that much. She could only imagine if he was this strategic and cunning drunk, what was he like completely sober.

Shuttering a bit, she hoped like hell she never found that out. Heels clicking, she made her way out of the alley only for his voice to stop her once more.

"Are you not going to tell me your name?" he asked softly. "It used to be quite becoming of the coyness some women practiced but with these modern times, I'd assumed that it was no longer adhered." 

Turning back around, she decided to play her hand just a bit. She needed to gauge him as he had done to her. 

Sighing, she explained. "I hadn't really planned to, to be honest. You're intelligent enough that I'm sure you'll have figured it out before I even get to my car. But if not, then you'll know it before we meet again and I've no doubt we will. As I'm sure your _generosity_ didn't come free, did it?"

Smiling, Klaus didn't bother to try and dispute it. She was right, he was just surprised she had figured out his intentions so soon. 

"Clever, clever girl." He grinned. "Indeed, it did not. A word of parting advise, There are others out that are not as gracious as I am and would gladly snack upon that lovely body of yours, should you dally heading home." He warned fastidiously.

Nodding, she turned back around and began to walk away. 

Calling over her shoulder. "Enjoy the rest of your dinner Klaus, and please try not to piss anybody off like I've heard you tend to do. It would be a shame if you woke up from your drunken night on the town, in the New Orleans rain gutters staked and angry as hell."

The only response she received was silence, and a breeze that raced across her body teasing her hair and carrying the distinct scent of bourbon, and blood.


	6. King's Gambit

**_"Play the opening like a book, the middlegame like a magician and the endgame like a machine."_ **

**_-Rudolph Spielmann-_ **

* * *

The gentle hum of water filled the, otherwise, quiet room.

Antique gold swirled in abstract patterns into the granite flooring, blending seamlessly into the cabinets that lined the equally antiquated sink. Mirrors trimmed in black and gold, with depictions of meadows around their edges, lined the parameter of the spacious bathroom. Delicately hand carved granite steps led up to a massive tub shaped like a sundial and covered by a sandstone archway with the same patterns as the equally stonework flooring.

A mural depicting witches gathering around a giant Magnolia tree decorated the high vault ceiling, while the LeRoux family emblem sat mezzotint directly below it.

Scented oils and soaps laid in wait around the tub, as a bath bomb made the once clear water brim with foam and bubbles.

Sighing contently, Arsetti stripped and lowered herself into the water. Allowing its warmth and scents of lavender, vanilla and pink lotus to lull her into a state of bliss.

Quietly, she let her thoughts roam back over her eventful first day home. Scowling slightly when she remembered what happened in the alley.

"Setti!" Called Fe loudly, from somewhere down the stairs. "I'm home, where you at?"

"In the bathtub upstairs, door's open!" Yelled Arsetti, as she fixed the rolled-up towel behind her head. She could hear Fe's heavy footsteps as he made his way up the stairs and into the bathroom.

Delicately sniffing the air, he frowned. "Girl, why the hell you smell like a brewery that was hanging out at a slaughter house all night and sprayed some perfume on it to try to cover up the funk?" Waving his hand in front of his face disgusted, he went to the nearby pantry and pulled out a dark blue bottle.

"Baby, you better try this." He laughed. "Cause that little lavender and vanilla is not about to cut that smell." Handing her the bottle, he took a seat on one of the tub stairs.

"So, what happen at Rousseau's that got you smelling like a back-alley dumpster cat?" He inquired. "Don't tell me you got out there fighting on your first day home?" He scoffed playfully, raising his eyebrow.

Shaking her head, she pointed a soapy finger at her cousin. "First, I hate you and your sensitive ass nose and two, no I didn't." She began with a smirk and roll of her eyes. "Before I tell you what happen, how bout you tell me where the hell you ran off too?" She countered accusingly. 

Unfazed, he answered calmly. "I went over to Lamont's to keep him company for a while. His wife was working a graveyard shift and he was kind of lonely."

"His wife's gonna whoop your home-wrecking ass if she ever finds out." Chuckled Arsetti. "Fe, Why is it that every boyfriend you ever had, has a wife or girlfriend when you meet them?"

"Oh, I know you're not talking, Setti?" Countered Fe sassily. "You know what, we are **not** even about to get into this one. We both a damn mess when it comes to men. So, moving **on** , what happened at _Rousseau's_?" Questioned Fe once more, this time emphasizing the restaurant's name.

Sighing, Arsetti dipped a little lower into the water until it came to just below her chin. "Okay, so let me begin by saying that I had no idea who dude even was at first. I mean, I was minding my own business and his drunk ass started following _me_." She began to explain quickly.

"Setti, what the hell happen?" Queried her cousin impatiently.

"I kind of, maybe, might have had a run in with Klaus Mikaelson." She uttered softly.

Then before Fe could interrupt again, she continued. "I was leaving the bar, when I felt like I was being watched, no _hunted_. So, I tried to lure them out by." Before she could finish, Fe over talked her.

"You walked your ass into an alley, didn't you?" He accused loudly, as he dipped his hand in the tub and splashed a little water in her face.

At her shameful nod, he sighed. "Well continue, even though I already know where this is headed." Frowning, she splashed him right back. Smirking victoriously when a few drops clung to his false eyelashes.

"I'm telling you Fe, he set me up." She described further. "It was too perfect. I'm like 92% sure that he compelled some poor guy to mug me and make himself look like a hero by saving me. So, now I owe him one. His drunk ass couldn't even stand up straight, but he was still able to out maneuver me like that."

"The worst part about it was how smug he was about the entire thing. It's like, he knew **I** knew that he was watching me, and he predicted exactly how I would respond to that. Then, he basically rubbed it in my face and lightweight called me weak." She ranted. "I have to figure out how the hell to get out of this "debt" with him before he can cash it in with whatever he's got brewing in that head of his."

Both cousins went silent, as they searched their minds for a way to out smart the original and get Arsetti out of owing him. Then like lightning on a sandy beach, Fe had an idea.

Clapping his hands together, he beamed. "He too damn smart for us to try some sneak shit. So, for him we have to go old school and be direct. We'll King's gambit that ass, or in this case, Queen's Gambit. He won't expect that one."

Listening attentively, Arsetti leaned forward until her arms draped over the bathtub. "How?"

Smiling, Fe enlightened. "Our best option is going to be catching him in a bind, instead of just waiting this thing out. That's the first step, the easy part. We'll attack first making him either sacrifice his knight or we'll have to give up a pawn, either way it's gonna leave him open no matter how we play it. See, the trick with men like Klaus is you have to make him believe everything he does is **his** idea. So, that's what we'll do. It'll make it easier to crush his ass from all sides, should it come to that."

Catching on to what Fe was getting at, Arsetti smiled. "Fe, you're a genius. Not only will that get me out of debt with him, but it will ensure I'm never in another position like that again. And thanks to a conversation with the French quarter witches, I think I know **exactly** how to do that."

Pausing, she gave it a little more thought. "Do you really think it'll work though? I mean this guy is like a thousand years old. I mean, both you and Vincent made him sound like he was part Stalin, part Casanova and part Satan."

"Yeah, but Setti at the end of the day he's still a man. Nobody likes a good chase more than a single man or a wolf, and baby he's both. He'll take the bait, even if he knows it might be a trap, because the reward is the one thing that every man like him craves." Elucidated Fe, nonchalantly.

Nodding her head, Arsetti realized. "He'll want power that comes with allying himself with the witches." She smirked.

Pointing his finger to her, Fe agreed smugly, winking. "Exactly! And every witch knows the rules, on that one. It won't take him long to find out how, or that he won't be the only one competing for it."

Stopping, Fe shook his head. His purple and magenta waves swaying around him as he did. Pursing his lips together, he advised. "Setti, there'll be other people out there looking to do the same thing. They'll try and gain power or influence through you. So, it's important that you stay neutral to all the coven factions, but neutral doesn't mean a fool or a pushover either."

"You are the queen. No one but god is above you or your word, here in New Orleans. You need to put your bid in with everyone now. Show a firm but fair hand when dealing with folks. Cousin, people are gonna try you time and time again because they are gonna make the mistake of thinking you a weak bitch, but we know better. MeMaw ain't raise no weak bitches. So, if anybody try you Setti. You make they ass regret it and show everybody watching that you ain't the one, you hear me?" Stated Fe firmly.

"I hear you cousin." Nodded Arsetti. He had given her a lot to think about.

As much of a mess as Fe may have seemed, he was also a strategist and chess prodigy. He was a master of unconventional tactics and accounting for all the variables, even the wild ones.

So, if he was telling her all of this then it meant that she needed to heed his words. He'd never once told her anything that wasn't for her own good or something she needed to hear, even if she didn't want to at the time.

Sighing, drew her out of her thoughts. Looking up, she realized that her cousin had gotten up and was leaving the bathroom.

"Finish up and get you some rest." He tiredly advised. "Tomorrow you need to go and have a look through MeMaw's grand grimoire and brush up on some of those spells again. After 4 years I'm sure you have probably forgotten a few of them." And with that he disappeared out the door and back down the stairs. Leaving Arsetti, once again alone with her thoughts.

After a few more minutes of scrubbing, she exited the bath and got ready for bed. Happy that she no longer smelled like a back-alley brawler, she climbed into her enormous antique bed and pulled her magenta comforter (with gold stitched patterns) over her tired body. Her last thoughts, before sleep claimed her, circled over something her grandmother used to say.

"Sometimes to truly see the light you have to let a little darkness in." She whispered the cryptic words, still to this day unsure of their exact meaning.

* * *

Morning light dimly filtered in from the crack in the heavy drapes. De fleur's library housed some of the oldest books in all New Orleans. The LeRoux's personal collection included many first editions and out of press books that were hard to find. From Kate Chopin to Clive Barker and everything in between, could be found within its immense shelves and antique cherry wood bureaus.

A fireplace, that hadn't been used in years, took up an entire wall and cozy chairs, porcelain lamps, aged ottomans, and sofas were scattered about the otherwise sparsely decorated room.

However, what Arsetti sought was tucked away in a dark corner in a secure glass casing.

Unlike most grand grimoire's, her grandmothers wasn't bound in leather. Instead, it's covering was pure silver with pictures of a sacrificial offering along its spine and her family emblem of a skull laying on a bed of magnolias with snakes coming out its mouth and a twisted scythe behind it, along its front. Engraved channels ran along its edges and two spell bound locks sealed it shut from anyone not of LeRoux blood.

Running her hands over the glass, she lifted it and removed the grand grimoire. Slowly she took a seat on one of the many antique ottomans in the sparsely decorated chamber.

Tracing her fingers along the lifted engraved words, she whispered. "Ouvri pa pouvwa a nan blodro la LeRoux." Taking one of the daggers, she always kept strapped to her thigh, she placed its sharp tip to her index finger. Watching as a small bead of blood formed.

She placed the drop of blood right onto the mouth of the skull, observing as it rapidly spread throughout all the channels of the grimoire. The tome began to warm in her hands and she watched fascinated as it shimmered brightly before the locks the gave way and snapped open.

The spells this book contained had been in Arsetti's family for generations. Even before the book was created to house them all. Back then, they were passed down orally from parent to child and memorized in a time when they weren't called voodoo queens but shamans or witch doctors.

It was filled with things they had learned over the years about their powers and spells they had improved on or invented. It contained everything she would ever need to know about herself and her family's power. She had grown up memorizing this book from cover to cover under the watchful eye of her mother and grandmother. There wasn't a spell in there that she didn't know, but after four years this simple refresher would be nice.

Gripping the cover, she opened it up to the first page, and gasped. Written in neat cursive was a letter addressed to her, from her grandmother. With shaking hands, she picked up the letter and opened it up.

In a soft voice, cracked by barely contain emotion, she read aloud:

" _Dear Setti,_

 _I know that things seem like they are coming at you fast but don't worry it gets easier as time goes by and you get used to being queen._ _I won't bore you with drawn out words or make you feel sadder than what you're already probably feeling._

_Instead, I'll tell you of two things you will not find in this grimoire, one of them was something that I discovered for myself._

_First, you may have noticed that there were skeletons that appeared on your tattoos when you took your birthright and you might even be thinking that those are our ancestors._

_Well, they're not._

_They are the souls that all the previous voodoo queens, even me, have absorbed throughout the years and you will have to do this too, Setti._

_It's how we retain our long lifespans. Each skeleton you see equals 100 souls that have been absorbed by us . Each soul we take, we condemn them to hang in eternal torment. Leaving their soul to suffer a fate worse than death._

_So, be careful whose soul you take and the reasons you have decided to do so._

_Our powers are connected to our emotions and to nature, which is something you already know._

_However, something that I learned on my own is that witches have dominion over **certain** things in nature and none more so than the voodoo queen._ _I wasn't able to explore that idea as much as I had wanted to, but you are much stronger than I am. You've always been a bright girl and I'm sure that with Fe, you two can figure it out._

_Make your own path and reign the way your heart tells you too, my love. And no matter if it's 50 years, 500 or even 5000 years from now, when you are ready to pass the power over, you will do as I did._

_I love you Setti and I'm always with you,_

_MeMaw."  
_

* * *

A lone tear streaked a path down her cheek, as Arsetti finished the letter. She took in all that her grandmother had said and decided that she and Fe would test out that theory, someday. Maybe, someday soon.

In the meantime, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her tattoos. Feeling as the branches began to expand down her body. Covering her torso, thighs and then all the way down to her toes, they ran. Magnolias, beginning to blossom as they did.

Opening her eyes, she watched in fascination as the skeletons began to appear between the branches, their faces twisted and tortured. This was what it meant to be voodoo queen, to be both darkness and light. This was what her grandmother's cryptic words may have meant.

Satisfied, with her discovery she cleared her mind and relaxed. Letting her powers seep back into the well inside her.

Looking down at her sandaled feet, she smiled as she watched the tattoos fade. Lifting the long pleated bohemian skirt, she saw that they were gone from her legs and thighs too. Running her hands over her exposed stomach up to the hem of the black crop-top she wore, then pushing up its long sleeves she saw that the tattoos still ran along her arms and up her neck.

Heavy feet rushing down the corridor interrupted her perusal of herself and she turned to watch who was coming.

Fe came barreling in, yelling. "Setti, baby we got a problem."

"What's wrong?" She asked standing up and closing the grimoire.

"We need to meet Vincent and the other witches at cemetery #2, right now. Apparently, New Orleans got an enormous influx in visiting vampires and from what I hear they are all sire-lings of Klaus and get this, they're being led by Marcel. It's bad Setti." Came Fe's worried explanation.

"Alright let's go." Nodded Arsetti, already walking out the library doors and into the hallway.

"Setti, who the hell you think you're bout to fight dressed like Esmeralda?" Giggled Fe, as he pointed to her multi colored bohemian skirt and crop top. "Quasimodo? I'm not saying it ain't cute, but you might want to change into something more, stake stabbing and heart ripping friendly. You know, just in case." He suggested, shrugging his shoulders playfully.

Rolling her eyes, Arsetti grumbled. "What I got on is fine, so let's go."

"Fine. Let's go lil gypsy vampire slayer." Joked Fe flippantly. "I hope you got shorts on under that skirt or if a strong wind blow, you're gonna be out here showing all them vamps your queenly goodies."

Laughing all the way to the car, they sped toward the French quarter.


	7. So Sayeth the Queen part 1

**_"The opportunity to secure ourselves against defeat lies in our own hands, but the opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself."_ **

**_-Sun Tsu-_ **

* * *

**The** gentle hum of power rippled off the rusted and worn rod iron gates of the cemetery.

Like lightning striking the sand, the ancestral power bounced from conduit tombs to the witches that gathered in the very epicenter of the ancient graveyard. This was the reason they had the ancestral well, to draw from the strength, knowledge and power of those passed when it was needed. It gave them an advantage over other supernaturals that they needed, especially now.

A witch was always at their strongest when within their coven.

Agitated, by the circumstances surrounding the meeting, some paced back and forth while others called upon the ancestors for calm energy and swift resolve.

Patiently, they waited for their new queen to arrive, as Vincent tried his best to assuage the rapidly anxious witches. Some wore the scars of their agitation, they oozed in thin crimson lines down the side of their necks or anywhere their skin had been exposed to the invading vampire's ire.

They had been the few who had tried to keep the locals safe as the sire-lings swarmed the streets of the French quarter hungerly, and for some it nearly cost them their life.

Led by none other than the wrath fueled Marcel, the vampires trapezed through the city striking down any who stood in their way as they march though the French quarter with one destination in mind.

Slowly, Arsetti and Fe' made their way through the graveyard and witches until they stood side by side with Vincent. Immediately all murmuring ceased as sets upon sets of concerned eyes turned to look up at her for guidance.

Clearing her throat, she leaned in to her regent. Voice laced in concern, as she took in the appearances of the witches that had been wounded, Arsetti politely asked. "Could you please tell me what is going on and why are there so many injured people?"

Sighing, Vincent explained concisely. "Klaus' sire-lings are on a rampage throughout the city. Marcel took charge of them and if I know him, he's taking them to the Mikaelson manor for a little revenge."

Looking around at the gathered witches, he shook his head remorsefully. "I had no idea he would allow any of this to happen. I thought that if he just focused, he could bring back the peace in the city. I guess I didn't count on his rage getting the better of him. You don't even want to know what St. Anne's looks like right now." He added shaking his head.

Detective Kinney had met him at the cemetery earlier and informed him of what laid at the old church turned gym. He had been shocked and even a little surprised to see what was left of the Stryx scattered across once holy grounds. Some had been ripped apart and drained dry. Their body parts littering the once pristine hardwood floors, not enough pieces of them to be identifiable but enough to know of the atrocities that had befallen them before Marcel had delivered them an agonizing final death. While others he had left to suffer slow deaths through impaling.

Their bodies hung lifelessly from the metal poles that lined the fighting cage that sat in St. Anne's center. The metal had pierced their hearts and for some pieces of the organ hung at the very top of the rod. A reminder of the point of entry to their excruciating end. If that didn't kill them, then the ensuing starvation would or Marcel's poisonous bite. He had made sure to riddle the impaled vampire's bodies with them and on some taken a chunk of flesh too.

Vincent realized that he may have created a monster worse than the Mikaelsons. Sighing, he tore his mind from the images of earlier and brought it back to their present situation. He watched Arsetti's face to see what her reaction would be to his words and found himself confused.

Instead of looking angry or distraught, she looked contemplative and calculated. He watched as her eyes scanned over the French quarter coven, the steely resolve that over took those otherwise bright blues sent a shiver of fear down his spine.

In this moment she looked every bit like a queen, A fierce lioness ready to defend her pride against those who thought they could ravage her subjects and get away with it.

In this moment, with her held high as her aristocratic nose lifted regally, she looked down right dangerous.

Quietly, she stepped down from the mantle and begin to make her way through the crowd of witches. In silence they watched her, parting aside to allow their queen to pass through without hindrance.

After a few paces she stopped. With her back still to them all, she addressed their unasked concerns.

"So, which of you knows where the Mikaelson's reside?" She asked calmly, with just a hint of edge to her voice that betrayed her obvious anger. "I think it's time Marcel and I had a talk. I would also like to have a _word_ with those vampires who have caused some of our coven members injuries. Any of you who like to join me are more than welcome."

Grinning, Fe' immediately came to stand next to Arsetti. "Queen's Gambit?" He whispered conspiratorially. 

Meeting his eyes with a smirk of her own, she nodded. "Plus, I think it's time to show that MeMaw ain't raise no punk bitches." She sneered softly.

"I know that's right, Setti." Agreed Fe', happily patting his cousin on the back.

Together the cousins, closely followed by both the regent and the French quarter witches made their way out of the cemetery and onto bourbon street.

Power surging between coven members like bolts of lightning as they marched.

The lights from the taverns and other buildings that lined the French quarter flickered as they passed.

Lending their electrical currents to the witches like fuel to a kindling fire, before going out completely as they slowly made their way to the Mikaelson manor.

* * *

**Quickly** , they set out their inventory onto the table. Freya had just informed them that swarms of angry sire-lings have begun flooding New Orleans, intent on killing Klaus'. Elijah hurriedly descended from the top of the stairs to meet Kol and Klaus at the table that set below.

Nodding his head in satisfaction, Kol grabbed Papa Tsunde''s knife. Turning to Klaus, he informed. "Freya is currently tracking down all your sire-lings as we speak. So, it won't be long now, which works for me."

Taking the knife by its hilt, he gave a forceful practice swing before tucking it safely into his belt. "I could use a good fight." He declared, as Elijah reached for a weapon of his own.

"Well, we do have an advantage." Assessed the older brother. "As long as the deed remains in Freya's name no vampire may enter the strong hold."

Scoffing, Kol derided. "So, what? We hide in here while our enemies' mass at the front gate?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Klaus smirked. "Well, if they're so determined to die at our hands than let them come."

However, a series of hard thuds coming from upstairs halted whatever else he had been about to say. Alertly the brothers made their way from the bottom of the stairway into the mansions receiving area, as footsteps began to sound all around them.

Vampires began to fill the area around them, entering the home from every open space. Calmly, the brothers watched as they were practically herded into the center of the room. Leaning over railings, crowding in halls and standing side by side in the foyer, Klaus' sire-lings made no move to attack them.

It was as if they were waiting for something, or **rather** _someone_.

Strolling in right through the front door, flanked by more vampires, Marcel shrugged. "I didn't want it to come to this but like always the Mikaelson's made my choice for me."

Slowly, he approached them until he was face to face with his former family.

Shocked and more than a little relived, Klaus softly uttered. "Marcel, how?"

Cockily, he eyed his former father figure. Watching as the other looked upon him with guilt ridden eyes and an apologetic small smirk.

Looking away, Marcel scoffed. "How am I in your house? Well, I still have people who in places who like me and would do anything for me. It was nothing to get someone to nullify a deed."

Walking forward until he was almost nose to nose with Klaus, he angrily spat. "Or, did you mean how am I not a rotten corpse at the bottom of the river?"

"I thought my friend was dead and yet here you are." Klaus began to explain. "So, send these fools away and let's talk, you and me." He suggested. With thinning patience, he waited for Marcel's reply to his proposal.

Haughtily, the younger vampire sneered. "Is that relief I hear? Really? If I hadn't been one step ahead of you I would still be at the bottom of the river."

Stepping in, Elijah placed a hand on Klaus. It was his non-verbal way of asking that he let him take over and try and reason with the angry former family member. Keeping his eyes locked of the man he thought of as a son, Klaus took a step back and allowed Elijah to step forward.

Carefully, the older Mikaelson confessed. "Marcel, your anger is with me. I am the one who is responsible for this crime against you."

Snidely, Marcel retorted. "If it's one thing I learned sticking around this family, Elijah. Is if you take on one of you, you take on all of you. And these guys, Klaus' sire-lings, are here to bear witness today."

Interrupting, Kol walked up to also enter the fray. "Are you planning on putting on a little show, Marcellas?" He jeered condescendingly.

Tension enveloped the room almost stiflingly as the room got quiet.

It so thickly littered the room that it left them all feeling as if they had been caught in a constrictors hungry embrace and they waited on choked breath to be swallowed whole by it.

This was finally the moment that Klaus' sire-lings had waited for, the moment when Marcel would strike, and chaos would erupt. Initially they had sought only the demise of the sire but now it seemed their impromptu leader planned on taking down the entire family.

Lifting his hands out, palms up, Marcel mockingly acted as if he were giving a Shakespearean monologue. As he turned to face the horde of vampires who egged him on, he announced arrogantly. "You're damn right I am, the fall of the Mikaelsons and guess what? The show has already started."

Exasperated by Marcel's show of arrogance, Kol tried another tactic. "Look, I know your upset about Davina's death, I loved her too, but she wouldn't want this." He reasoned, but it fell upon deaf ears.

"Don't you even mention her name." Yelled a furious Marcel, pointing a accusatory finger at Kol. "If it weren't for you she'd still be alive."

Slapping his hand away, the youngest Mikaelson snapped. "But she's not and this is an insult to her memory."

Fed up and done talking Marcel's temper erupted and, in a move, almost as fast as lightning he punched Kol in the stomach. Rearing back the youngest Mikaelson pulled out papa Tsunde's knife of torment and launched himself at Marcel, intent to drive the knife into his cold heart.

There would be no more trying to reason with him, he was beyond it. He wanted a fight and that's what he would get. 

However, before either of them could make contact an explosion at the front door stopped all their movement.

Wooden debris was strewn about the mansion as dust clung to the air like thick brown smoke. And through the rubble, over what had once been the threshold of the front doors, her sandaled feet lightly padded into the residence.

Flanked by Vincent and Fe', Arsetti approached the now shocked immobilized warring vampires.

Outside the other French quarter witches surrounded the house and arms linked they began to chant, as their power surged around them before infiltrating the houses thick walls.

"I thought I asked you to try not to piss anyone off?" Asked the young queen, brow quirked, as she eyed a now smirking Klaus.

Raising her hand, she soundlessly erected a barrier around them. Effectively sealing Marcel, the Mikaelson men, Fe', Vincent and herself away from the outside vampires. She didn't need any of them getting in the way, until she was ready to deal with them.

However, since she couldn't very well allow them to leave she had the witches surround the house outside and place a barrier so that they too would be unable to leave.

Turning away from Klaus curious gaze, she causally stepped between Kol and Marcel. Giving the younger Mikaelson a light push, she watched as he blinked in confusion before moving to stand at Elijah's side.

Both men were curious as to who she was and what her intentions were but seeing that Klaus seemed pleased with her arrival, relaxed them enough to assume that she was not an enemy.

"Marcel Gerard." Tsked the queen in mock admiration. "I think it's time we talk and get a few things straight." Tilting her head bit to the side, she was about to begin her interrogation only to find herself cut off by Marcel's brash words.

"Look, I don't know who you are but if you." He began angrily, only to be cut off by the queen's condescending laugh.

Raising her hand up, she admonished. "That's not how this works sweetheart. I talk you listen and if I ask you a question you had damn well better answer it."

Taking, a deep breath she tried to calm her raging anger at his audacity. Fe' was right. People immediately saw her and thought she was some weak woman that would cower away from her own shadow, but that was all going to change.

She would use today to get out of debt with Klaus and make a point to anyone who thought to take what was hers, _starting_ with Marcel Gerard.

Coldly, she looked him in the eye daring him to try anything and seeing that he wouldn't, she began. "Tell me Marcel, what are your intentions here today?" 

Grinning callously, she folded her arms and spared a glanced to Klaus. Only to find that he was no longer smirking. Instead, he focused his attention on Marcel also curious to see how he would answer the question and if any of his questions about the unique young woman would be answered.

' **Good** '. She thought, then focused back on her means to a splendid end.

Calmly and with all the grace of her station, she waited as Marcel dug his own grave.


	8. So Sayeth the Queen part 2

**_"Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake."_ **

**_-Napoléon Bonaparte-_ **

* * *

"Not that it's any of your business." Drawled Marcel as he began to pace back and forth, as if he were about to give the most prolific closing argument, of his long life, before a waiting grand jury. "But, now that I possess the necessary means to help anyone stupid enough to cross me meet their end, I'm not backing down. I'm taking back my city and if I have to, I'm taking down the Mikaelsons. Their reign ends here."

Cheers rang out around the room as the barricaded vampires expressed their excitement at Marcel's impassioned words. Swinging his arms out around him towards the cheering crowds, he continued his speech.

"The icing on all of this is that Klaus' own sire-lings get to bear witness to their maker's, and his family's downfall. I-"

Yet, before he could finish, Arsetti cut him off with another question. She really didn't care one way or another about his petty agenda. After all, he was just a means to an end. However, she **did** care about something he had said in the mists of his long-winded spiel.

"Marcel, what means do you think you have?" She asked carefully. "As far as I know, there is only one thing that can kill an original; and to be quite honest, you're not strong enough to take them down with it, even if you had it in your possession." She scoffed, as she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

Raising her eyebrow, and crossing her arms under her bosom, she derided. "So, enlighten me and everyone else here with what this weapon you supposedly have is."

Clearing his throat, Vincent shook his head. Sighing heavily, whether it was the situation in front of him or at his own folly that led to this showdown, he sought to explain his part. He only hoped that the new queen would be as merciful as the last one was, pertaining to his punishment.

"This is all my fault." Vincent began solemnly. "I thought I was doing a good thing giving Marcel that serum, but I had no **idea** this would be his intentions for it. But, to make a long-story short, and to answer your question, it's venom."

Slowly, his eyes drifted over to meet Elijah's, conveying an unspoken message within his otherwise somber expression.

"And it's strong enough to kill anything, even an original." He watched as the older original's eyes narrowed in thought and both his younger brother's eyebrows raised in surprise at the new information being given.

Seeing the question in their eyes, Vincent added. "And before any of you ask; no, there is no cure. If Marcel bites you, you **will** die."

Looking back to Arsetti, who had been quietly taking in all this new information, he apologized. "Like I said before, I had no idea that he was gonna do this and all of this happened before I knew you had even returned. I never would have done it otherwise; and for that I'm so sorry."

Nodding her head in understanding, the young queen waved him off and turned her attention back to the now smirking Marcel. Scoffing, she prepared to address the current issue head on.

Outside she could hear the French Quarter witches' chants and could see that both barriers were still holding strong.

Interrupting her thoughts, the cocky super vamp addressed the regent, but his actual target had been the Voodoo Queen herself.

Snidely, he heckled. "Who is she to be apologizing to? It's none of her business; I'm not changing my stance on any of this and whoever gets in my way will get cut down like a dry rotted tree." Then turning his attention to Arsetti, he smirked coldly.

His eyes betraying his thoughts even before the words left his lips, but the warning was still the same.

Darkly, he threatened. "So, if you don't want to die where you stand, I suggest you leave and take your coven with you."

Aloofly, Arsetti stared him down. Unafraid of his measly little threat on her life. He had no idea of just what he was dealing with, nor who. She had decided that she would take the upmost pleasure in wiping that smug smile off his face. She would make him wish he had never uttered those words. Hell, he would wish he were never born, by the time she was finished torturing him.

However, with bulging eyes, a nervous Vincent interceded. "Marcel are you crazy? You can't go around making those kinds of threats, especially not to **her**. There's no way in hell I can save you from her wrath if you keep this up."

Sighing, he ran a shaky hand through his hair in frustration. In more calmness than he felt, at the moment, he reasoned. "This is **not** someone you want as an enemy, trust me. This is a woman that you would want as your ally. So, just, save yourself some pain and back down; do whatever it is she tells you to. Be smart Marcel."

Elijah's wheels began to turn as he took in the scene before him. The way Vincent practically pleaded with Marcel to not open Pandora's box, as it pertained to the young woman before him. Looking around, he also noticed the other man that had entered the Mikaelson manor with them.

He was tall and trim. His long purple and magenta hair had been pulled back into a sleek ponytail. He tapped his long rhinestone covered brightly painted nails against the buckle of his expensive purse, as he too, took in the scene with a serene smile.

Noticing Elijah's stare, Fe' looked in his direction, winked, and blew him a kiss.

Frowning thoughtfully, the elder original brought his attention back to the intriguing young woman. Who, if he had to guess, Vincent seemed rather afraid of. Turning to his brothers he could see from their expressions that their thoughts were similar to his own.

"I'm guessing that by both of your expressions, neither of you have any idea who this girl might be." Elijah observed astutely.

"I saw her at Rousseau's the night of Camille's funeral." Supplied Klaus thoughtfully. "It was odd actually. She was surrounded by witches, almost the entire night." He recalled with a slight frown. He had purposely left out the part where he tricked her into owing him a debt. He didn't think his brothers needed to know that little tidbit of information.

Kol tried everything he could to keep from pacing, as he processed what Klaus had reveled and the events that they were currently witnessing. Rubbing the bridge of his nose in growing agitation, he carefully queried. "Those witches you saw around her, they weren't by chance bowing or giving her gifts, were they?"

As he waited what felt like years for his brother to answer, he hoped like hell Niklaus would say no because the other option would be too horrible to even deign to imagine.

Unbiddenly, his mind traveled back to a time where he and Elijah had encountered such a woman and it caused an involuntary shiver to course down his spine. There were very few beings in this world that truly frightened the immortal; in fact, before that, he would have said only their parents could inspire such soul screaming fear.

However, after that fateful day many-many years ago, he and Elijah swore they would never tell another soul of what they witnessed and after that day his family wasn't the only thing the youngest Mikaelson feared.

Nodding, completely unaware of his brother's inner turmoil, Klaus replied. "Yes, as a matter of fact they were."

At his admission, Kol's heart dropped. Horrified, he whispered. "Elijah, it's her."

Shocked, the older Mikaelson didn't have to be reminded of the **her** Kol had been referring to. Instead, cautiously he inquired. "Are you sure Kol? While I do admit the similarities between them, I don't believe they are in fact the same individual."

Now in full panic, the youngest brother pointed to Arsetti. "Look at her tattoos. Elijah, it's her. She's one of them, if not **the** one." He whisper-argued alarmed.

Coming to stand next to his debating brothers, a slightly confused Klaus asked. "She's who Kol?"

"She's a got-damned monster that's what she is." Exclaimed Kol, only to realize belatedly the unintended volume of his voice. In a much softer voice, he continued. "If Marcel keeps poking that hornets' nest, that girl will kill everyone in this room, including us."

"Kol." Elijah warned calmly.

Rounding back onto his brother, the youngest Mikaelson snapped. "No, Elijah. You know what a girl like that is capable of. We've seen it, felt it. There is no way in hell I'm dying because Marcel is a dumbass and has no clue who he just threatened."

Frustrated at not receiving any reliable answer, Klaus turned his attention to Elijah as well.

"Tell me, brother; who is she?" He asked in a barely strained voice, emphasizing the last part.

Running a calm hand through his hair, Elijah didn't deter in his cool visage. "We think she might be a family member of the strongest woman we ever met. I don't remember her first name, but I do remember that her last name was LeRoux." He explained patiently.

"And if she is, then it means she might be the Queen of New Orleans. Which means that **we** are royally fucked." Added Kol, still with barely contained panic.

"New Orleans has a Queen?" Smirked Klaus.

"Brother, it has always had a Queen." Supplied Elijah. However, before more could be said Arsetti's voice thundered down on the room.

"You have no idea who you're even talking to, nor what you're even talking about. You can NOT run or reclaim a city that has never belonged to you in the first place." Maintained the young queen.

Her calm facade was quickly fading in the wake of her growing rage at Marcel's audacity. It was times like this where her razor-sharp tongue and bone chilling coldness would show themselves. Arsetti had a way with words that would exploit even the toughest person's deepest secret vulnerabilities, and now would be no exception.

Laughing darkly, she jeered haughtily. "You are nothing. Not a king nor even a real threat. All you are, is an angry little child forever in his own family's shadow. Never good enough to actual be a Mikaelson and trying desperately to fill that missing piece." Scoffing, she rolled her eyes. "You're nothing more than a hurt little boy, lashing out at the world because his daddy didn't love him enough."

The energy in the room began to shift, bunching and coiling around the room like a snake waiting to attack. Even the air became more stifled as everyone's anticipation grew to new heights.

Baring his fangs Marcel had enough. What she had said was a harsh truth that he tried to keep buried deep inside. Yet, she had so callously called him out in front of everyone and made his insecurities know to the entire room. He didn't care who she was, for that, she had to die.

Seeing everything unfold before his eyes, Kol did the only thing he could think of, at the moment.

"Marcel, you stupid wanker! You are literally about to sign your own death warrant if you attack her!" Yelled a pleading Kol. "You're just going to piss her off."

However, his words were lost over the roaring of the vampires as they egged on the impending battle. Each eager to see the witch brought to her knees by Marcel.

On swift legs he lunged for the queen, as she stood perfectly still. Yet, he still hadn't been quick enough.

Arsetti's eyes flashed white and wind began to sweep across the room. Looking Marcel straight in his eyes she lifted her delicate hand. Her tattoos began to sway gently in time with the blowing breeze, as hot searing pain swept through his body.

Frozen, from fright or pain, his bloodcurdling screams filled the room. One by one his limbs began to twist and bend unnaturally, as the sound of his breaking bones rivaled his screams in volume. One by one, joint by joint, they broke. Then the bones would relocate just to break all over again. Every finger, toe, kneecap, ankle and shoulder blade; if it could bend Arsetti broke it.

Fe' and Vincent stood century, prepared to intervene if needed. 

Not one to sit idly by, Klaus tried to leap into action, determined to put a stop to this. However, he found himself quickly brought to his knees. Hot white pain raced up his spine to pool in his head. It had felt as if his very brain were on fire. Quickly, he grabbed his head feeling that blood had begun to seep from his ears.

"Oh, no honey." Chided Fe' cheerfully with his hands extended and his eyes flashing a preternatural cinnamon. "We can't have you spoiling this here good time. So, ya'll are gonna sit here and watch like everybody else."

Slowly, Klaus tried to fight against the magic and after a while was able to turn his head enough to see that both his brothers had been restrained in the same manor, by both Vincent and the other more effeminate male.

Helplessly, just like the other vampires who clawed and fought against the barrier, trying in vain to break through, he could do nothing but watch the torture before him.

In a voice that roared like thunder over the room. Arsetti condemned. "You might be strong Marcel, but you will never be stronger than the witches. It is by our will alone that you even exist and our power which flows through your veins. With out us, that venom you carry would not exist and you would be nothing more than a regular vampire. By that alone, you will never, nor can you ever, be king to my city. And for your crimes against the French quarter witches in my absence, I have every right to sentence you to death."

With that, his body began to rise higher in the air as his screams grew more still in volume. Faster and faster the magnolia tattoos swayed on the voodoo queen, almost as if caught in the middle of a strong storm.

"Don't." Shouted Klaus, all to aware of the killing blow she had been about to deliver Marcel.

Never taking her eyes off of her target, she questioned. "Why? Why should I spare him? I could have sworn he was about to kill you and your brothers just before I got here, and yet you're still asking me not to kill him? Why?"

Sighing, Klaus pulled the only cards he knew he had, hoping like hell it would work. "Because," he began slowly. "Because he's my son and because you owe me."

Smirking, Arsetti tried not to show the absolute elation she felt. Fe' had been right, using Marcel to get out of debt with Klaus had worked perfectly. She never had any real intention of killing him, but she did want to torture him for what he did to the witches.

That was something that was unacceptable and for that he would pay.

Sighing deeply, she played her part of the pissed of queen to a tee, huffing. "Fine. I won't kill him. But as long as he feels that he has the venom to kill, he'll never stop trying to claim the city. And that is something that I just can't allow."

Painstakingly slow, she lowered Marcel until he stood before her. Raising her hands, she used one to grab him by the throat and the other to pry open his mouth. Eyes flashing white once more, she forced his body to bare his fangs. Everyone watched in a mixture of horror and fascination, as his veins began to swell beneath his skin; turning black as they became visible. The black substance moved towards his head until it had collected within his fangs and his veins disappeared back underneath his skin.

Viciously, Arsetti snatched both fangs from his mouth. "If you have no fangs you can cause no more problems." She laughed chillingly, as Fe' looked on proudly. "Don't worry, you'll get them back once I feel you have learned your lesson. Until then, you get the pleasure of enjoying all of your meals with decorative straws."

With that, she snapped his neck and tossed his body away from her. His crumpled unconscious form landed right in front of Elijah.

Now that that had been settled, she focused her attention on the vampires still trapped with the barriers.

Smiling softly, even as they roared their anger, she began politely. "Okay, as for the rest of you; abandon this sad ass woo is me my sire's an asshole, so I want him dead mission, and just leave New Orleans."

"Look," She continued, even as they raged against the barrier and called her every foul name in the world, in just as many languages. "None of you have any right to put anyone on trial for their crimes when you have spelt just as much if not more blood. What's done is done, so just move on. I mean, if you still feel bitter about it then by all mean hunt his ass down; track him any where in the world and make him pay. Any where but **here** in New Orleans."

Angered by her words, the vampires began shouting their displeasure. However, it was one voice that stood out among them all.

"I will rip out your fucking heart and eat it, you bitch." Yelled the deep baritone from somewhere in the back.

Shocked but not surprised, Arsetti sought diplomacy. "Excuse me." She began nonchalantly. Raising her hand above her eyes like a visor, she scanned the crowd trying to see if she could find the face to match the voice. However, it was just too many of them. So, instead, she tried a different approach.

Pleasantly, she asked. "Could the vampire who said that please step forward. I can't see you with these human eyes of mine and I'd like to discuss this matter like adults. I really feel like we can reach an agreement."

Dramatically, the crowd parted, and a giant of a vampire made his way up to the front of the barrier. His bald head glistened under the manor's lights. Not only was he tall but also quite stocky, as if he could have been a club bouncer or maybe someone's bodyguard.

"Jeez, what beanstalk did he fall from." Quipped Arsetti, as she took in her antagonist's form. She heard Fe's whisper of, " Fe, fi, fo fum" and tried her hardest not to laugh; even though she had been thinking the exact same thing.

Clearing her throat, she asked calmly. "So, can you repeat exactly what you said? I just want to make sure I heard you right."

Yet, instead of an answer he spit at the barrier and called her a bitch.

Faster than he could grind bones to make his bread, Arsetti's eyes flashed and lightning rained down on the bald giant. Everyone watched in twisted horror as his body was ripped apart before exploding like shattered glass.

Holding out her hand, the voodoo queen caught his heart and smiling at the crowd bit into it. As blood trickled down her chin, she addressed the onlookers.

"You know, I tried to be nice about this." She began, then stopped to take another bit of the man's hearts. After swallowing, she continued. "I really did, but it seems like we just aren't gonna come to an understanding, are we?" She asked crestfallen.

Smirking, Klaus watched in morbid fascination as she continued to consume the heart until she had eaten it all. He was shocked that anyone aside from himself would do such a thing and to say the least, she now had his full attention. He had initially thought that she would be demure and let Vincent or the other guy with her fight her battles, but he had been wrong. She not only was no coward; she also possessed a brutality that could rival any of the Mikaelsons. Quirking a brow, he left his thoughts on the intriguing queen to focus back on what she would do next.

Laughing maniacally, she flicked the blood from her hands. "Ah, fuck it." She huffed. As the magnolia branches began to spread down her body, her eyes bled to white. Lynched skeletons began to appear from the branches, their faces twisted in grotesque shrieks as they dangled seemingly caught in the same winds as the blossoms.

"I was gonna let you leave, but now, I'm going to make you watch as I rip your body limb from limb and devour your fucking souls." She promised sinisterly, in an unnaturally deep voice.

And as the branches reached her feet, the vampires closest to the barrier burst into flames.


	9. Le Code Noir de la Terreur

_" **I love the storm and fear the calm.** "_ _  
_

_- **Christiana Queen of Sweden** -_

* * *

Panic swept through the mansion as the barricaded vampires struggled against their confines. 

The remains of those that had been closest to the barrier near the queen, were now nothing but smoking vestiges littering the marble floor in steaming black piles of cinders. 

Her power pressed down upon them ominously, nearly choking them with its oppressiveness. Quickly, they tried to unite. In an effort to exploit a weak spot in the barrier nearest the exit, they bombarded it with a flood of attacks. In the hope that it would be enough to crack and then break it, so they could escape the carnage. 

However, only the queen's inhuman sinister laughter greeted their effort. Raising her head towards, what would have been the sky if she had been outside and not in the Mikaelson manor, she tilted her had back an opened her mouth. 

The ground began to rumble and quake as an ear-piercing sound, so shrill it couldn't be called a scream, left the queen's lips. Those caught within the barriers struggled to stay on their feet. Jumping from side to side as they tried to dodge the now rolling ground. 

It moved as though something was alive under the polished marble. Like there was a shark or some horrible creature swimming just under their feet, waiting to pull them down into its depths. 

Some had the misfortune of being too slow and had been swallowed by the floor, screaming as they were dragged beneath the marble by some unseen force. 

Yet, their bodies hadn't stayed within the floor for very long. Instead, the unfortunate vampires' bones had been spewed from the marble, high in the air like a geyser, until they landed in a heap back onto the now still floor. 

Horrifying bloodcurdling screams tore around the room, but no one knew if they had been pulled from their own lips or something more sinister. They got the answer to their unasked question, when the souls of those who had fallen by fire and by marble floor, were dragged from their paltry remains that littered the mansion floor. 

The Mikaelson men watched in morbid fascination as the souls were dragged to the young queen, kicking and screaming. Their tortured faces were pulled into the vortex of her eyes one by one, as lightning began to rain down upon the others left in the barrier. 

Her tattoos swayed to the sound the lightning made every time it struck one of its marks. The lynched skeletons twisted mouths opened wider as they too, swayed, and shrieked. 

Bolt after hot bolt, tore through the bodies of the vampires and their bodies exploded on impact. Shattering like glass, their limbs fell in bloodied heaps around the manor. Shredding through bone and muscle like wet tissue, the bolts left no survivors. 

And as their souls were roughly pulled from their bodies by the power of the voodoo queen, they too screamed their last scream. 

A new skeleton began to form among the Magnolia blossoms; screeching as the noose from the tattooed branch fastened itself around its neck, for all eternity. 

Laughing, Arssetti looked down at the new addition with cold disdain. "I tried to warn you." She scolded. "But none of you would listen." Smiling taciturnly, she jeered. "I hope y'all enjoy your eternal torment in my _wonderful_ garden."

Fe' looked on proudly at his cousin's handy work. He knew that Arssetti had a temper when pushed. Well, they all did but the work she had done today had been absolutely marvelous. It had drove home what they needed it to and would make others rethink trying the queen or her coven. 

He moved closer to Setti, knowing that she would most likely be left weak from such a strong display of power so soon after inheriting them. He wanted to drive home his cousin's strength to everyone left in the room. 

So, as he neared her, his eyes flashed a preternatural cinnamon as he used his power to scan her. If he saw that she was beginning to weaken, then he would siphon his own power to her, to give her the strength she needed to walk out of this building with her head held high like the queen she was. Fe' was determined not to let his cousin---his queen appear weak to the other supernaturals in the room, nor to the rest of the coven. 

However, his intervention would be unneeded. 

Eyes flashing white one last time as her Magnolia tattoos began to recede back to normal, Arssetti smiled. And Fe' knew that she would be just fine without his help. 

Slowly, she dropped the barrier inside as the French Quarter witches dropped the other. Turning around, she took one last look at her handy work. Body parts, flayed bones, cracked marble, and piles of smoking ashes littered the room in absolute disarray. The place looked like the epicenter for a warzone, like a one roomed apocalypse had torn through its doors. 

She felt several pairs of eyes on her but only turned to meet one. 

Watching as his amazed smile turned into a cocky smirk and he inclined his head to her. If it had been in thanks or question, Arssetti wasn't sure but in the moment, she found she didn't really care. 

Walking up to him, as he stood among the wreckage of his once pristine manor's receiving room, she lifted her hands and swept them around her mid-air. "This," she began calmly. "Makes us square, now." 

Watching in satisfaction as the handsome hybrid nodded in agreeance. "And Marcel?" Klaus questioned equally as calm. 

Though the young queen had said that she would spare his life, Klaus was under no delusions. He knew that Marcel posed a problem to the queen's throne and wouldn't stop trying to get the city back under his control as long as he had that serum coursing through his veins. 

Though not of his own flesh, Marcel was every bit like his father and Klaus knew that he would not have done much different if the roles were reversed. He also knew that the queen could have no one trying to oppose her reign and after seeing her little display firsthand and feeling the burn of her power nearly char his flesh, he had to wonder what twisted punishment she had in store for his disobedient child. 

Sighing, she tsked. "I told you I wouldn't kill him and I'm a person of my word. However, I can't have him being a super vamp out in these streets. So, I've stripped him of the serum." Pulling out Marcel's fangs from some hidden pocket in her long skirt, she held them up for Klaus to see. "He will get these back once I've disposed of the serum within them. Until then, try and teach your _kid_ some humility." Arssetti compromised. 

"Agreed." Klaus simply nodded. 

Yet, when he fixed his mouth to say more, the conversation was interrupted. Kol, who had sat by quietly watching the entire display in terror, approached the queen carefully.

After seeing her power, he had no doubt that she was quite possibly the nightmare from many years ago. Yet, also knew that as the queen of the covens she could give him the one thing he wanted more than life. And for that, he was willing to risk her wrath to plead for it. 

"Your majesty," he began softly, bowing as the words fell from his lips. Taking her hand in his, he kissed her knuckles and got on his knees. "I, Kol Mikaelson, son of Esther and a long time friend of the French Quarter witches, beg you to please bring back Davina. She didn't deserve to die. Her soul was ripped apart and I have no one else to turn to. Please bring her back to me---please." He begged brokenly, trying not to let the tears from his grief distract his mission to bring back the love of his long life. 

Carefully, Arssetti removed her hand from his before she addressed him in as comforting a voice as she could muster. "Kol, we witches are more than just our power. We operate to also keep the balance. You more than anyone should understand that nature must maintain balance, or the world will be thrown into chaos. Sometimes that balance causes you to lose loved ones, sometimes unfairly, but the balance has to be kept. It's something that all witches live by, including Davina herself." 

When he looked like he would interrupt her, she held up her hand to stop him. "However," she added with a soft smile. "Since Vincent told me that it was the ancestors who meddled in the affairs of the living and ultimately were the cause of her death; I decided that I would bring her back." 

Kol's eyes lit up as he practically leaped to his feet.

"Kol. This will be the one and only time that I do this for you. Like I said, the balance must be kept. So, should Davina die again-" She warned, leaving the sentence unfinished with only a raised eyebrow to get her point across.

"I understand." He nodded rapidly, eyes growing wide as footsteps in the now silent manor rang out among the quiet. 

Tortuously slow, he waited for who ever it was to walk over the now mangled door's threshold. Yet, all was forgotten the moment his eyes fell on Davina's smiling, tear streaked face. Unable to hold back any longer, Kol sped to greet her; wrapping his arms around her and he gave her a searing kiss. 

Arssetti watched the display with a kind smile for only a moment longer, before she interrupted the cute couple. 

"Davina. I expect you at the next coven meeting. You are still apart of the French Quarter witches and I'd love to hear some of your ideas on how we can improve the coven." She winked at the nodding girl. Then with a wave of her queenly hand dismissed the couple to reacquaint themselves. 

Sighing tiredly, she motioned for both Fe' and Vincent. Her work there was finished. She had accomplished her goal of getting out of debt with Klaus and establishing herself as a force to be feared. 

Now, all she wanted to do was go home and take a hot bath, gargle with like 5 bottles of Listerine, and then _maybe_ even eat some ice cream and watch a messy reality show with Fe'. Arssetti felt she deserved it. 

Together, they ambled towards the exit, when Arssetti called over her shoulder. "You know, Klaus. You look kind've nice now that you're not bathed in blood and reeking of a drunken slaughterhouse." 

The French quarter witches stood lined up just outside the doors, waiting for their queen, as clouds began to gather in the sky once more. "Just do me one _small_ solid." She giggled lightly. 

The sound of her laughter rang like tiny bells throughout the room. "Try _**harder**_ not to piss anyone _else_ off."

Laughing, the hybrid bantered back. "Hey! Are you not going to clean up your mess? Some would say that it's bad manners for a guest to leave their host's house in such an unkempt state." 

Turning around to face him, she winked. "Nah, you got it vampdaddy. I'm sure you and your brothers can compel some unfortunate cleaning company to come through and make this place _sparkle_." 

Clearing his throat, Elijah interjected with a question of his own. "Isn't it also considered bad manners for a new ally to not leave us with her name?" 

Rolling her eyes playfully annoyed, Arssetti stated plainly. "Well, not to be a bitch _but_ I'm not your ally. Just stay away from my witches and I won't destroy everything that you hold dear and then come back like a thief in the night to collect your soul for my lovely little garden of eternal damnation. Is that cool with you, vampdaddy number 2?" She giggled slightly, as she took in the way Elijah's eyes narrowed in slight agitation. 

"But for the sake of being polite, my name is Arssetti LeRoux." She smirked. With that, she and the other witches left. 

Waiting until he was sure the witches were gone, Elijah finally spoke. "She is quite powerful, but I wonder if we can trust her. What are your thoughts on the Magnolia tattooed queen, brother?" 

Seeing that he was getting no answer, he turned to face the only other person still alive in the room.

Klaus looked to be in deep thought. His slightly creased brow and contemplative eyes, told Elijah one thing--Klaus was strategizing. 

"Niklaus." He called again, this time successfully gaining his younger brother's attention.

"I asked, what are your thoughts on the queen?" He questioned calmly. 

As their eyes met, he watched as the hybrid smirked.

Grinning, Klaus supplied. "She needs a king."

* * *

Legs pumping, he tore down a neighborhood alley, trying desperately to evade them.

Jumping over a turned over shopping cart, he stumbled as he regained his balance. They were hot on his heels, but he knew if he could just make it one more block, he'd be safe. His mother was a strong witch and would save him. 

He passed homeless people making camp for the night and drug addicts as they found a quiet dark corner in the alley to take their dependency in semi-privacy.

Finally, he made it out of the alley and onto the dark street. 

Carefully, he made his way down the near empty sidewalk, keeping alert as he did. A group of tourists walked on the other side of the street laughing as their drinks spilled onto the concrete. 

The clouds above him threatened to flood the street once more in rain, as he tried not to let the fear, he felt, cloud his judgment. 

Sniffling, he wiped his eyes. His mother had told him to be home before the streetlights came on; yet, he hadn't listened. 

Now, as he ambled down the dark city trying to evade capture, he wished like hell he had. He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of screeching tires and a van door being slammed open. 

Not looking back he tried to make a run for it but found himself immobile. 

Frozen, he could only watch in terror as knife-wielding people dressed in black approached him. The leader of the group lifted his weapon and craved an emblem he couldn't see into the middle of his head, and after the searing pain of it, his world went black. 

"Throw him in the back with the others." The leader commanded roughly. "We have a long night ahead of us, and many more children to capture."


	10. Reaper Man

**_“Light thinks it travels faster than anything, but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.”  
― Terry Pratchett--_**

* * *

No sooner had they strode over the manor’s threshold and onto the near empty streets, dizziness swept through Arsetti. Taking a few calming breaths, she remained unfazed by all appearances.

However, on the inside she was beginning to panic. They still had to march three more blocks until they could make it back to where her car was parked. She could feel exhaustion creep its way up her spine and found her energy quickly draining. 

Perhaps she had over done it, _just_ a bit. Using that much power so soon after gaining them had probably not been the best idea and Arsetti found herself beginning to regret it. Carefully, she looked around at the French Quarter witches, trying to discern if they had noticed her energy fluctuations. 

Yet, they all remained facing forward, marching like a well-organized army. Each step synchronized, arms sitting stiffly at their sides in a show of not only solidarity, but power. They were out to make a clear statement to anyone watching, don’t fuck with the French Quarter witches.

Despite her tiredness, Arsetti smiled softly at the display and fought harder against her body to keep the façade. She wanted to prove to them that she was a strong leader. It was one thing to showcase the power she held but another to show them that she could handle that power, and she desperately wanted to demonstrate that. It was vital that the voodoo queen illustrate that she was worthy of holding the power that ran through her veins. 

Yet, as strong as her will and mind were, exhaustion was starting to win the battle. All around her the world began to spin; buildings, people, and lights all blended in blurry disarray. Faster and faster, her world twirled and danced to the rapid beat of her heart. Her head grew light, as if it were filled with helium and at any moment would disconnect from her body and float away.

It seemed that Arsetti’s little show of power, at the Mikaelson manor, was about to come collect its due. She had done too much too fast and in response her body was about to shut down completely. Smiling softly, she hoped the French Quarter coven wouldn’t be too upset at her unintended show of weakness.

Fe` who had been closely keeping an eye on the young queen, sense the moment her body was about to give out. Acting quickly, but nonchalantly, he moved closer to her. Eyes shining a preternatural cinnamon, he delicately placed his hand in hers. He had more than enough energy to share with his little cousin and even more to give to his queen in her time of need.

“Oh, no, baby. Now, we can’t have none of that.” He chided, barely above a whisper. “Hold that head **_all_** the way up, Setti. We witch strutting for the masses.” He giggled as he gave her a playful wink. 

Waving his free hand out to the small crowds of tourist and patrons alike, that had begun to gather along the sidewalks to watch the display. “You betta strut Miss Queen. Strut like you a new AKA just after crossing over. Stroll Setti!” Laughed Fe` jovially. “Strut for all these peasants. Let they asses see what royalty look like up close.”

To the outside world, and even the other witches that march with them, it looked as if the flamboyantly fabulous man was simply trying to get his cousin to loosen up a bit. However, that was not the case. He was discreetly feeding her his power in order to keep her conscious. Like Arsetti, Fe` wanted to drive home the sentiment that the voodoo queen was the strongest of them all. 

Relief flooded the young queen as her vision cleared and the dizziness, she had felt crashed down upon her, began to vanish. Finally, able to properly take in the scene before her, she looked around at the small clusters of people watching.

Some were drinking fruity drinks with brightly colored straws and loaded with equally bright candies brimmed in sugar. While others, stood compliantly wearing stoic expressions laced with curiosity. Yet, all remained rooted in their place watching the witches’ display in both fascination and mild entertainment. Unsure if what they were seeing was some sort of established New Orleans tradition, or just happenstance. 

Her eyes fell to Fe`’s an appreciative smile adorning her queenly face. Nodding his head, he pulled her in closer for a quick side hug, an unspoken conversation between the two. She said nothing, simply reached into her blouse and handed him the keys to her car. 

Still holding hands, the cousins ambled contently back to Saint Louis cemetery. After a brief speech thanking everyone for their participation and plans for the next meeting held by the regent, they made their way to Arsetti’s car. As agreed, in their unspoken conversation, Fe` drove them back to the manor.

* * *

“Fe`, I think I’m going to have to give you a rain check on Love and Hip-Hop Hollywood. I’m just to damn tired.” Yawned Arsetti as she trudged up Le` fleur’s cobblestone steps.

“That’s alright. Guess I’ll call Lemont, see if his wife went to work yet.” Shrugged Fe` nonchalantly as he unlocked the manor doors and walked inside. Taking out his phone, Arsetti watched as he sent a quick text to someone. Who, she automatically assumed, must have been Lemont.

Too tired to do anything more, Arsetti made her way to her bathroom. Deciding against a bath for fear of falling asleep in the tub, she took a quick shower. Cleaned and dressed for bed, she collapsed onto her bed; and before her head had hit the pillow was sound asleep. 

Yet, as soon as her eyes had closed, she found them open once more. Only, she wasn’t in the safety of her room. Instead, she stood in the middle of Bourbon street.

Inquisitively, she took in the scene before her. The French quarter sat in ruin.

Gone were the bright lights of the bars and the panoply of touristy liveliness. In its place was a run down, dull, boarded up place that had seen better days and had no one left to tell its rich history. 

Alarmed, Arsetti cautiously walked the street, determined to find at least something or someone who could tell her what happened there. Just as she passed Saint Louis Cemetery number 1, she could make out the outline of a person. Walking briskly, she made her way to the shadow until she could make out who it was, and the air was knocked from her lungs. 

“MeMaw?” Whispered Arsetti disbelievingly. 

The Former voodoo queen simply nodded her head and smiled softly. Needing no further prompting, the young queen ran into her grandmother’s waiting arms and began to cry.

“Shhhh. It’s alright Setti.” Sadie cooed comfortingly, rubbing soothing circles on her granddaughter’s back. Once her cries began to ebb a bit, Sadie’s expression turned grim. 

Wiping her eyes, Arsetti met her grandmother’s eyes with confusion. She had so many questions that she had no idea where to even began. However, Sadie shook her head sadly, explaining.

“Now is not the time, Setti. Come, you need to see this.” 

In the blink of an eye, the duo stood back in the center of the French Quarter.

A chill swept through Arsetti, unlike anything she had ever felt before. Like the feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when something wasn’t quite right, it nagged at her. Causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand at attention, she remained alert; eyes scanning around for anything that seemed out of place. 

It was when she skimmed past a dark alley for the third time that she noticed something she hadn’t before. A tall shadowy figure slightly hunched over something smaller. It was hard to make out and she strained to catch a better glimpse. She tried to take a step forward but found herself unable to move. 

Her grandmother held tightly to her hand, silently urging her to stay put. Just when she was about to ask why, the shadowy figure lifted its head.

Deep blood red eyes met her steely blues in pure malice and Arsetti was taken aback for a second. 

Its face was still obscured, but from what she could make out the thing appeared to be grinning at her.

She watched in morbid fascination as its vermilion eyes flashed and its grin widened incomprehensibly and inhumanly. Twisting and turning into something downright terrifying, it pointed its bony finger at her. 

Bones, with bits of rotten flesh still attached, began to pour from its twisted grin, oozing out onto the street to pool at Arsetti’s feet.

At first, she thought they were some sort of animal bones but as they continued to cascade towards her in heaps, she realized that they were undeniably human. Not only were they human but they were much too small to belong to any adult.

Visibly disgusted, Arsetti cringed.

Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, Sadie presaged gravely. “Setti, they are trying to bring him back. To bring back the darkness and cast us all back into the shadows. If you aren’t careful history will repeat itself and he will finally finish what he started.”

Turning away from the horrid image and trying to ignore the brush of bones sliding and scraping at her skin, the young queen met her grandmother’s grim stare. “Who is this MeMaw?” She queried more than a little confused.

However, instead of an answer like she expected, the former voodoo queen merely clapped once and the scene before them vanished.

In its place stood an old shanty. Its dry rotted wooden planks stripped of any paint as its tin roof sat rusted by years of sun and rain. The grass that grew around it was dry and quite sparse. The soil cracked and hard, resembled the riverbanks when they’ve dried out from lack of rain. 

Perplexed, Arsetti turned to ask her grandmother the meaning of this but found only empty air greeted her.

Before she could dwell on it for too long a pained moan from inside the old shack gained her attention. Without hesitation, she made her way inside only to stop in horror just beyond the threshold. 

There were candles everywhere.

All circling what appeared to be some sort of pentagram. Black salt and various crystals outlined the chalked symbol. At each point, sat a sacrificed animal. Their entrails flayed open and oozing to the pentagrams center. 

Yet, it was what sat in the center that brought tears to Arsetti’s eyes and fiery rage burning through her veins.

She watched at the woman’s black blood mixed with the animals, as the gaping hole in the center of her stomach openly displayed the bottom of her still beating heart. 

Steely blues met agonized hazels, and she watched as the woman struggled to breathe. The retched sounds becoming more garbled and waterier with each inhale. 

For a moment, they simply stared at each other; both knowing what was to come and unable to stop it.

“Momma,” cried the young voodoo queen reaching a shaky hand out towards her supine form. Yet, she received no answer.

She had always known her mother had died a gruesome death, though the details of that night had been kept from her. She realized now that her mother’s last moments had to have been excruciating, both physically and mentally. To die alone, like she had, seemed almost unfathomable to the young queen and her heart bled for her mother’s final moments. 

A watery sigh slid out before she could stop it, as a fresh crop of tears trekked paths down her cheeks.

However, before she could utter another word the candles began to flicker as a dark presence entered the room. Dressed in dark purple robes, the being hovered over her mother’s prone form. His skull mask was the only thing Arsetti could make out of him beyond his hooded robes. She watched helplessly as he withdrew a wicked looking knife that resembled a scythe.

Coupled with the robes, and his skull mask, it gave off the impression that he was the grim reaper himself. There to collect her mother’s soul. 

Panic swept through Arsetti as he drew closer to her mother. Garbled voices filled the room, overlapping one another as the candles flickered and their flames began to turn black. Suddenly, her mother’s eyes found hers.

“He’s coming Setti.” She screamed. “The reaper man is coming!” 

Laughter filled the room as her mother began to scream. Her body began to shrivel up as her eyes turned white. Soon nothing remained of her but a mummified hollow shell and then even that disappeared into nothing but dust.

Triumphantly, the dark being stood tall and then for the first time since she had been there, turned to face her. Once again, the distorted voices overlapped each other coupled with laughter. Everything around her began to spin, yet the robed being remained still.

Raising his arm, he pointed his scythe-knife at her.

Panting, Arsetti shot up from the comforts of her bed.

Sweating and shaking, she tried to still her rapidly beating heart. Wiping her brow, she glanced around until her eyes found the clock on her dresser. 2pm. She had slept until the afternoon. Before she could dwell on the idea of sleeping in, she heard the rush of heavy feet. 

Flinging open her door, Fe` rushed to her bedside. “Oh, thank God you finally up.” Began Fe` filled with relief. “I was starting to worry about you.”

“I know. I’m sorry I had you worried cousin. I guess I was a lot more drained than I really understood.” She supplied weakly, still disturbed by the images she had seen. “In the future I’ll try my damndest not to sleep till noon.”

“Noon?” Came Fe` confused response. “Setti, baby, you been out for 3 days. If it wasn’t for your study heartbeat I woulda thought you was dead.” Shaking his head, Fe` rid himself of that thought.

Instead, he prepared himself to deliver some more unpleasant news. Gently, he brushed away a few strands of hair from around Arsetti’s face that had been dangerously close to getting in her eye. 

“Setti, I know you just woke up and all from your unintended coma, but I gotta tell you something. And baby, I don’t think your gonna like it much.” He began carefully. “See, while you were out of commission, somebody’s been going round snatching up kids. Not just any kids, either. Setti, somebody been abducting kids from the different covens.”

Horrified, her mind began to supply her with the images her grandmother had shown her. The dark being, her mother and the mounds of children’s bones flooded back to her, and she had to stop herself from becoming physically ill. 

Instead, she tried to focus on the bigger picture. Nodding, she eyed Fe` carefully, judging his reaction to what she was about to reveal. “MeMaw came to me while I was out.” She began meticulously. Watching as her cousin’s eyes widened a bit.

“Go on,” he urged. “What did she say?”

“Fe`, who’s the reaper man?” she asked watching as Fe`’s concerned face fell and became hauntingly pale and lost in his own memories. 


End file.
